Mischief is its Own Reward
by Dal Niente
Summary: Roxanne is Sick And Tired of being bugged about not being in a relationship. Minion sees an Opportunity and Seizes It. This results in Megamind traveling home with Roxanne for Christmas as her "boyfriend." Fake dating? YES. Only one bed? CHECK. Oblivious characters? YEP. Mutually-requited pining? WE GOT THAT TOO. Megamind getting the cuddles he so desperately needs? OH YOU KNOW IT.
1. Chapter 1

Elf_Kid! Merry Christmas, and thank you for a LOVELY COMBINATION OF PROMPTS, holy crap! This was written for the 2019 Megamind Secret Santa Fic/Art Exchange, and friends, Elf offered three possible suggestions: Fake Dating, Keeping Each Other Warm, and Mistletoe. And I, being the nutball that I am, looked at that and said, "well, I've never written fake dating before and I can't read incomplete fics in that genre without needing to breathe into a paper bag, but! if I write fake dating, I bet I can do ALL THREE OF THOSE in ONE FIC."

So I did. :P

Anyhoo, I got this prompt and went HELL YES but I also didn't have a whole lot of time to work out new character dynamics and relationships? So, Roxanne's sister and her brother-in-law are from an as-yet-unpublished fic I've had knocking around in my snippets folder for a couple years. And mom-wise, well, I couldn't do ColdFusion!Mom for various reasons. But it's sort of fanon that Roxanne's relationship with her mother is Complex, and so I gave her a mother who I think __tries__ to do her best but whose brain gremlins don't always interact well with Roxanne's. Hopefully that's okay. It wound up being useful for relationship development purposes! All of which is just to say, Elf, I did my best! but! please let me know if any of this really squicks you and I will change it, because you are a good egg who deserves the best. This one is for you. Big hug.

There are 15 chapters and this fic is fully written; I just haven't marked it complete because it's 3AM and I'm going to sleep. I'll upload the rest of the chapters over this weekend, probably!

* * *

Chapter 1

It begins with a lie. Not a big lie, you understand—just the sort of little lie you tell to Get Your Family Off Your Back about the thing they've been Nagging You About that really, truly, __honestly__ is None Of Their Business.

It begins with a small lie, a little off-gray lie, that gets bigger. And because it belongs to Roxanne, who is Stubborn, and __more __than willing to double down if it means not getting nagged about her Future and her Prospects and her Biological Clock, it is a lie that gets bigger and bigger and bigger until—

Well, Rosemary Ritchi's theory is it gets __so__ big that it simply loops back around and becomes the greatest truth there has ever been or will ever be simply as a matter of course. But Rosemary Ritchi dual majored in economics and political science, so what does she know about truth.

"It's like how really terrible movies come back around and become good," says Rose.

No, Rose. It really is not like that at all. But thanks for playing.

"Oh, thbpbpbt," says Rose, rolling her eyes. "You're no fun at all."

* * *

"Roxanne," says her mother, in June, "you know I don't mean anything by it."

"I know," says Roxanne, who is Exhausted.

"It's just—sweetheart, you aren't getting any younger! You're thirty-two!"

"I __know__," says Roxanne, biting her tongue and trying to sound cheerful and supportive so this doesn't become A Thing.

"I want you to be __happy__," Dorothy says. "Annie, you know that's all I really care about, but…"

"But you also want grandbabies," Roxanne sighs, because she knows where this is going. She knows when her mother is ramping up to one of her well-meaning when-are-you-going-to-finally-settle-down lectures.

"But I also want grandbabies!" Dorothy exclaims. "And you know Rose can't have children—"

"Salim can," Roxanne says, recalcitrant, "and you know they're trying," and her mother splutters for a moment.

"Well—well, yes, but—oh, Annie, you know that isn't what I mean."

__Then what do you mean, Mom? What DO you mean?__

Roxanne does not scream these things. Instead, she just sighs and thumps her head gently against the French doors leading out onto her balcony. "Ma," she says. "You __know__ I'm not sold on the whole kids thing. You __know__ Rose is the one trying for kids." She opens the door and heads out onto her balcony to lean on her elbows on the railing. "__Why__ are you barking up this tree? Do you really see me having kids in the next five years? I'm thirty-two! I like where I am!"

"I just think you would be happier with a boyfriend," her mother says despairingly. "Or—or a girlfriend! It's okay! I just think it's such a __shame__ that sweet Wayne boy turned out to be gay. I'm so sorry about that, Annie. You wasted, what, six years with him?"

"Four," Roxanne says flatly, even though the real answer is __seven__, and also __I don't see it as a waste__, and ALSO __I knew he was gay from our third 'date' forward__.

"Four—__four?__ Now, Annie, really. I'm old, not stupid—"

"Five, then," Roxanne snaps. "But—but Mom. Ma. Would you—would you shut up and listen to me? For like thirty seconds? I met someone."

(Here it is.)

Silence from her mother's end of the line.

"I met someone," Roxanne repeats, because she is absolutely crap at lying in person but she can lie over the phone all she wants. It's the one good thing about talking on the phone. And then she thinks __oh well, what the hell, might as well make it a boy__, so she says, "He's—really nice. Mom, I really like him. Okay? So maybe things will work out, this time."

Her mother lives in Montana. Her sister lives in New Mexico. It's not like they're going to just show up like __let's take you and your man out to lunch__ at random one day.

"Is—is it serious?" her mother asks. "What's his name?"

Roxanne, who only wants to be done with this conversation, says, "It's serious enough that I am mentioning him. Okay? And—his name is—Micah." It's the name of the most recent hire at KCMP News, and distinctive enough to not be immediately identifiable as a Big Ol' Lie. "We met at, um. Well, not __work__," she says, because her mother is nosy and if this gets back to Actual Micah, Roxanne will sink into the ground and become part of the earth's mantle out of shame, "but…sort of a work function? Like…it was a networking thing. It was super boring; he was the only good thing about it."

"Micah," her mother says, sounding startled. "Oh! He's Jewish?"

"I'm…not sure," Roxanne says. She has no idea what the etymology of the name Micah is; it was just the first name she could think of that wasn't Obviously A Lie, like John or Steve. "We haven't gotten to discussing religion yet. Maybe. Why? Would that be a problem?"

"No," her mother exclaims, still sounding completely shocked by this news, "not at all, of course not. I'm—Annie, that's such good news! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

__Because it's none of your FUCKING business and also he's not real__. "We're taking it slow, that's all," Roxanne says. "False hopes, you know? But…but I really do like him a lot, Mom."

"Well, that's wonderful," her mother exclaims. "Annie, I'm so happy for you!"

And it all.

Goes downhill.

From there.

* * *

"Mom says you met someone," Rosemary says eagerly, in August. "Some nice Jewish boy? From work?"

"I—he's—" Crap. Crap. Crap. Rose is dying not to be the only married daughter, Roxanne knows; their mother loves them both but she can be seriously overbearing. "Yeah, not quite from work, and no, he isn't Jewish, I think he's—agnostic?"

"Oh, of course, that's fine too," Rosemary brushes that off. And of course she would; her own husband prays five times a day like clockwork. "It's just—Roxannie, that's awesome! Is he coming to Thanksgiving?"

__Shit__, Roxanne thinks. __Shit, shit__. "Not Thanksgiving," she says. "He already has plans. But maybe—maybe Christmas? His family lives overseas and he's been talking about going to visit them, he hasn't been back to—um—visit in like four years, and—"

Rosemary makes a sympathetic noise. "Oh, absolutely. That's far too long," she says. "Well, but see if…could he maybe go visit them in January? Couldn't he? Annie, we want to meet him!"

"I'll talk to him about it," says Roxanne, who is Weak.

(She would tell her sister the truth. She would. Really. Rose would understand Roxanne's reasoning. But Rose sounds __so excited__ about this and she would also be __so disappointed__. And admitting Micah isn't real to her sister would mean also telling her mother she and Micah broke up, and—and that would open up a whole new range of lectures about What A Shame It Is That You're Single (Again), Oh Dear. Which! Roxanne should really have thought about! To begin with!)

* * *

It's just excruciating to continually have your life that you're happy with judged and found lacking and openly criticized by people who are important to you. That's all. These new questions are also excruciating, but at least they're about something Roxanne can control.

* * *

Her mother calls a whole month earlier than usual to make plans for Christmas. She doesn't say anything about why she's calling in October, but she does ask if Micah has bought his plane tickets home yet, and can he come out to Montana with Roxanne, and—

—and Roxanne, who is having a long day and just doesn't have the brain space to come up with a breakup story, says, "Yeah, he's really excited to meet you guys, too," and immediately drops her head onto her desk as soon as she hangs up the phone.

* * *

Two days into December, Roxanne is on the phone with Rosemary again when her sister drops the bombshell.

"I don't think Micah is real," Rose says.

Roxanne blinks, righteous irritation flaring despite the fact that her sister is absolutely correct. "Ex…cuse me?"

"You heard me," Rosemary says calmly, "I don't think he's real, Annie. I really don't. You haven't said where he's from, you haven't mentioned his last name, he's never around when I call, you won't send pictures of you two…you're just being __super vague__ about the whole thing and I think it's nonsense."

"It—it is __not nonsense__," Roxanne replies, outraged, even though it is the most nonsense ever. "He is not nonsense! Rose, I __love __him, what the heck?"

__What are you doing,__ her brain screams. __This was your opportunity to come clean to your sister! and ask what to do about your mom! What are you doing?__

Roxanne's reply to her own brain sounds like mostly incoherent screaming.

* * *

So, she is kind of low-key panicking all throughout the next week, because how did it get to this point? How did it—seriously, though, what the heck indeed? __How __has she not come up with a breakup story yet? How did she not come up with a breakup story back in __October__ when her mom called to ask about Roxanne's imaginary boyfriend's plane tickets?

She's low-key panicking and high-key cranky and so when Megamind is halfway through his usual __let me tell you how clever I am, Roxanne; see what I'm doing with this; can you guess what this is__ routine later that week, Roxanne snaps, "I don't know, you're the freakazoid. You tell me."

Megamind pulls up short and recoils, looking stung. "What?"

"This is __stupid__," Roxanne says, ignoring the prick of her conscience. "Either take me home or turn on the cameras already and let's get this show on the road. I am not in the mood."

He blinks at her a few times, then cocks his head and frowns a little. "Miss Ritchi," he says slowly, "is everything all right?"

It's Roxanne's turn to blink. "What? Yes. Except for the fact that I've been kidnapped, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well," he says, twiddling his thumbs in front of his stomach, standing with his feet together, "your wit can be cutting at times, we both know this, but—that was—mean. Uncalled-for? You don't usually interrupt just to insult me." He frowns. "And, and I have noticed a few times over the past month or so, you've—this isn't the first—" He cuts himself off, then hesitantly says, "Are you okay? Is something—did I—have I done something wrong? Wrong-er than usual, of course," he amends hastily, because __kidnapping, hello__.

Roxanne stares at him for a moment, then heaves a sigh. "No," she says, disappointed with herself and no longer able to ignore it. "No, it's…not you. You're right, I'm sorry."

Now Megamind looks really worried. "Okaaay," he says, "and usually we don't do apologies, either." He frowns harder at her for a moment, then spins on his heels and trots over to his high-backed wheelie chair, which he pushes back over to her with both hands and drops himself down into.

"Okay," he says again, more firmly this time, facing her. "Now. You will tell me what is wrong and I will fix it and life will go back to normal."

"…I don't…know if you can help," Roxanne says, trying to get her head around __I will fix it__ like that's a thing Megamind is willing to just…__do__ for her. "It's really very stupid."

He smiles thinly. "Ollo, freakazoid over here," he says. "I am really very smart. Fixing stupid things is what I do. Tell me."

She swallows. "You're going to think I'm a complete idiot," she clarifies, and Megamind tilts his head at her.

"The odds of that happening," he says, "are so infiniteesimally small as to be nonexistent. Tell me."

So she takes a deep breath, because she really does feel badly about the whole freakazoid comment, and says, "I told my family I was dating someone who doesn't exist so they would stop bugging me about finding someone to date. And I didn't know how to tell them I broke up with him and now they think he's coming to Christmas. And my __sister __said she thinks he doesn't exist, so of course I insisted he __does __exist—because people second-guessing my life choices kind of…kind of shorts out my ability to make good decisions? I guess? Anyway. And so now if I don't show up with __someone__ willing to play along with this mess, I'm never going to hear the end of it." She sighs. "It's completely my fault, of course. I should have 'broken up' with him back in August. It was just…I kept thinking, maybe now they'll quit hassling me about all this. Maybe __now__ they'll stop hassling me. Okay, maybe __this __time." She wrinkles her nose. "It was just…nice to be annoyed about an imaginary boyfriend instead of the lack of any kind of partner. For once."

Megamind is squinting at her, looking puzzled. "I think I'm missing something," he says. "They care about you dating anyone…because of why?"

Roxanne shrugs. "Apparently I would be 'happier' with a boyfriend." She can't bring her hands in front of her to do air quotes, but she makes them pretty obvious tonally.

Minion chimes in, looking even more confused than Megamind does. "Are you __un__happy currently, Miss Ritchi?"

"No!" she exclaims. "No, I'm very happy! I like my life!" She sighs. "I suppose I could be __just as__ happy, but happy in a…well, in a different way, if I was dating someone. But I just don't see why I __need__ to have someone in that role. I'm fine where I am! And dating is __such __a pain, I mean, you know how it is."

Minion just looks bewildered, but Megamind fidgets a little. "Yes!" he exclaims. "Yes, of course! Dating." He shudders his whole body, pulls a face. "Ugh, such a pain."

"Right?" Roxanne rolls her eyes. "I mean—I'd have to find someone who I __really fit __with in order to be as happy as I am right now. I don't want to change who I am for somebody else! Little behaviors here and there, fine, I can work on those, but—what I like to do when I'm at home, what I like to do on the weekends, what I want to do when I'm on vacation? I mean, sometimes I want to just take a day and sit, but oh, no, __that's__ not acceptable; we're on vacation, we have to Make The Most Of It. Oh, and travel? Finding someone I travel well with is—ha! No! I…frankly, I don't know if I've __ever__ matched with someone in those arenas."

Megamind frowns. "Still," he says. "Either way, I don't see why it's their business."

"Thank you!" she exclaims. "Thank you! Every time I try and talk to my friends about this, they're like, __well it HAS been a long time since you've dated anybody__…and it drives me crazy. Honestly, sometimes I think I __am __crazy."

"Get better friends," Megamind suggests. "You sound perfectly sane to me."

Minion clears his throat. "Miss Ritchi," he says slowly. "I…may have a…potential solution to your problem as I understand it. And, and it seems you may have a potential solution to a problem I am having."

Both Roxanne and Megamind blink up at him, startled.

Minion gulps a little. "You see, um, Miss Ritchi. You aren't the only one who has been…oh…irritable? out of sorts? recently. And I think a change of scenery might—"

Megamind sits bolt upright. "Minion, don't you __dare__," he snaps, but Minion—usually so agreeable—rounds on him with surprising vim.

"Sir you have been an __absolute crank__ for the past __month and a half__," he snaps, and Megamind's mouth falls open. He presses a hand to his chest in silent, incredulous affront. "Yes, you! And you know it! Moreso even than usual, going into this time of year. And—and let me __tell__ you, Sir, I have had enough! I really have."

Roxanne steals a glance at Megamind, feeling a little like she's just been caught in the middle of a family argument with no way out. Megamind is glaring into the middle distance, his eyebrows low, but he isn't denying Minion's allegations, so…

"So, Miss Ritchi," says Minion, turning back to her, "I propose that you bring Sir—Megamind—to Christmas with your family as your romantic plus-one."

"Minion," Megamind says, his voice low, "I cannot believe you."

Roxanne, however, blinks and sits back in the kidnapping chair a little. Actually…okay, that would be—sort of amazing? Fine, you're all so desperate for me to date someone? Okay: I'm dating Megamind. Sit on it and spin. Teach you to criticize my life. Ahaha. Take that.

"Huh," she says, trying to wrap her head around the idea. "That's…hm."

Megamind snaps his head up and around to look at her. "You're—wait. You're __considering this?__"

"I am," she says slowly. "Yes. You would have to agree, of course, but…that has potential." She refocuses on Minion, asks, "Do you want to come, too?"

Now Minion looks startled. "Do __I__—oh, no." He laughs. "No, Miss Ritchi, I am flattered, but—I don't—ha. Social. No. Thank you! But no."

She looks over at Megamind, who is still staring at her like she's sprouted a second head. "Well?" she asks her serial kidnapper, sounding braver than she feels. "I'm considering it, how about you?"

He blinks a few times, scrunches his face, pulls it loose again, blinks some more. Then he curls back in his chair and pulls his feet up under him. "Hmmm," he says, stroking his beard. "Mischief __is__ its own reward, as they say…"

Roxanne blinks. "Pretty sure they say that about virtue, not mischief."

Megamind snorts and waves a dismissive hand. "That is because they are __boring__ and lack __vision__," he tells her, and yeah, okay, he has a point. And he sits up a little in his high-backed chair. "Well," he says. "Well. Minion, perhaps you're—right. Maybe I do need a change of scenery."

"My mom lives in Montana," Roxanne warns. "We'll have to fly there, you realize. It's not going to be an afternoon; we'll have to spend at least one night there. Two, if we're going to __really__ pull this off—my old bedroom has bunk beds, so no issues there, but—"

Megamind twitches a shrug under his mantle. "Eh," he says. "Two nights doesn't sound like a problem. It's something new. I like new things!"

"And it's going to be cold," Roxanne says. "Bozeman's average temperature in December is, like…twenty degrees."

"Metro is already freezing," Minion says, and Megamind sort of nods in his direction.

Roxanne studies him for a moment. "Are you even allowed on an airplane? I assume you're on a no-fly list."

"Pfsh," he scoffs. "__A__ no-fly list, singular? Miss Ritchi, I am on __seventy-three__ no-fly lists! So we'll take the Invisible Hovercraft."

Roxanne's mouth falls open. She doesn't usually show surprise around Megamind, since he tends to gloat about it, but— "You have an __invisible hovercraft?__"

"I do not," he says, sending her his biggest, most sparkling grin. "But I have almost a month to build one, so I will if you want me to! That is the sort of thing I would do, if I was your boyfriend, isn't it? Build you a hovercraft?"

"I—really have no idea," Roxanne says blankly. "I've never had a boyfriend capable of doing that before."

Megamind sits up straight and cocks his head. "Before?" His eyebrows go up, his grin grows wider. "Is that a yes? Operation Fake Dating is a go?"

…Fuck it. Hashtag yolo. "Operation Fake Dating is a go," Roxanne confirms, and Megamind wriggles his shoulders, a sign that he's pleased. __He got on board with this awfully quickly__, she thinks, amused, __but then again, when does Megamind ever hesitate longer than a minute and a half?__

"__Exc__ellent," he says, curling up even more comfortably in his chair, drumming the tips of his fingers together. "This is going to be __interesting__. Now, Miss Ritchi, I need details. Many details, all the details. What have you already told your family about this suddenly-extant-but-still-very-much-fake-boyfriend? What behaviors will they be looking for from me? Will we need to bring gifts? What—ah. What clothing will I be expected to wear?" His grin slips a couple notches at that last one, and Roxanne blinks.

"You can wear whatever clothing you want," she says slowly. "Why?"

"I don't—hm—wear clothing? Exactly? I wear—" He gestures at his chest, still grinning, but nervously. "This. Mostly. Almost exclusively."

"No sweaters?" The Lair is habitually freezing.

"Never tried sweaters," he says, eyebrows pulling together. "Clothing __rubs__. I can't really—it makes me—upset?" He fidgets. "Absurdly so, or so I'm told. It __hurts__."

"Hey," Roxanne says, sort of surprised, because he's sort of hunching over, now, his eyebrows low and his smile in danger of being entirely extinguished. "That's fine. That's okay, that's—I get that with certain fabrics, too, that's okay."

"Most fabrics, in my case," he says. "It feels like needles under my skin; I can't."

Roxanne shakes her head. He seems really hung up on this. "Megamind, spandex is still clothing. You can wear nothing but spandex if you want to." She shrugs. "You might freeze, but you can come in full supervillain panoply, if you want to. It's okay."

He's quiet for a moment, studying her. "You're sure."

(Minion is standing very still, off to one side. He appears to be texting.)

"Of course," she says. "Can I ask, though—what about really loose clothing? Or soft?"

"Loose is okay," he says quickly. "Loose and soft is—I can do flannel, my pajamas are flannel. So…so maybe a really __big__ sweater?" He pauses. "You have a navy one, the one with the penguin? I could maybe wear something like that. Maybe."

Roxanne blinks a few times at the mental image of Megamind in an oversized sweater over his black spandex. That's. Huh. That honestly wouldn't be a bad look, for him. "Do you __want __to wear something other than spandex? You seem sort of worried about the spandex."

Megamind makes a face. "I __want__ to seem like a boyfriend you would date."

Oh. "Clothes have very little to do with that," Roxanne says. "You're not sloppy; that's all I'd be looking for in the clothing arena. As long as you aren't wiping your nose on your sleeve, I'm happy."

"Ah," he says, relaxing a little, "okay."

He is still frowning, though. She cocks her head. "Or—what about wearing your spandex under regular clothing? Is it rubbing in general, or just on your skin?"

Megamind blinks a few times, then scrunches his face, looking bewildered. "Is that an option? "

"Of course it would be," she says, surprised he would need to ask. "Megamind, they would be __your clothes__, you can wear anything you like under them."

"Hmmm," he says, frowning into the middle distance. "That…may be worth trying."

She studies him for a moment. "You must really hate those prison uniforms, huh?"

He shudders.

"Would __you__ be looking for anything in particular?" Roxanne asks, feeling like she should probably clear all this out of the way before they go too far. "I'm not wearing a full face of makeup every day," she warns, before he can reply. "I only—"

"—Only do that when you know you're going to be on the air," Megamind finishes. "Yes, I've noticed. That's fine. The makeup you wear—I don't know what you do, but it covers your freckles."

"That's part of the point," Roxanne agrees.

"Perhaps, but I like your freckles," Megamind says. "So wear whatever you want. You can leave all your makeup at home if you want to; I don't care." He cocks his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "I've seen you totally bare-faced a few times, Miss Ritchi, if you recall. You're beautiful no matter what you're wearing; I will tell you that for free."

She arches an eyebrow. "Imagine what you would tell me if I paid you," she quips, trying not to be flattered.

He grins at her. "Regardless. I'm not looking for anything in particular."

Up goes her other eyebrow. "Really? Nothing?"

He clears his throat, fidgets awkwardly for a moment. "Honestly, I'm…not sure what there is to look for? I don't…date. Much. Shocking, I know."

"Neither do I." Roxanne frowns. "Maybe if we discuss this from the perspective of what __they__ will be looking for, and then see how much of that we can do?"

His slightly worried expression morphs to relieved delight in a split second. "Ah! Yes! That sounds excellent! What __will__ they be looking for?"

"So, ideally we should support each other," Roxanne says, "but be able to argue. You know, be able to disagree on unimportant things while still being respectful."

"Unimportant things," Megamind repeats, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, you know, like…driving styles, tastes in music. But the important things, like politics and…well, certain social and economic issues? It's easier if both parties agree on those. Religion can fall into either category, depending on how devout or not the parties in question are."

"I embrace all religions in concept but subscribe to none in practice," Megamind says immediately. Roxanne's lips twitch. He had that line memorized and ready to go, she can tell.

"That works," she says. "My family went to church a lot when I was little, but after we moved out to Montana and the closest church they agreed with was a fifty-minute drive, we mostly stopped going." She grins. "Mom said she figured God would understand."

Megamind shrugs. "Seems understandable to me."

"Anyway, my family tends to be pretty chill about that stuff," Roxanne says. "My brother-in-law is muslim and my mom was fine with that. Startled, but fine with it." She pauses, then says—carefully, because she is talking to a man who habitually covers himself in spikes and that's a look that says __don't touch me__ if she's ever seen one— "They will probably also be expecting a certain degree of…physical closeness? Between us?"

Sure enough, Megamind goes still. "Physical closeness."

"Like holding hands," Roxanne says, "or…you know, cuddling on the sofa."

Megamind swallows hard. He isn't smiling. "That," he says, "may be a problem. I don't. Touch. Not without—not without asking. Not—coming up and—I've seen people just—"

"But you __can__ touch," Roxanne tries to clarify, "it's not like the clothes thing? You're okay touching, you just need advance notice? No surprises?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "Something like that, but…it's not that I don't want to. It's—I need—I can't be the one who surprises. I need to be—expected."

Roxanne blinks. "That's okay," she says. "That's fine. Why wouldn't that be fine?"

"How long have we been 'dating'?"

"About six months."

"And, after six months, I'm still asking if I can hold your hand," Megamind says. "Would that not seem weird? To your family?"

"Megamind, most of what I do seems weird to my family," Roxanne says dryly. "One way or another. But…okay, what if…what if I tell you that you have a standing invitation? To hold my hand? Would that work?"

He hesitates, but shakes his head again.

"What if you come up next to me and sort of quietly clear your throat, and then __I__ hold __your__ hand?"

His worried expression clears. "__Oh__," he says immediately, "yes. That! I like that. We can do that?"

Roxanne shrugs. It's the first time she's had a partner who needed that sort of thing, but sure, why not. Dating is about working together to find what works together. "Sure," she says. "What about sofa cuddles? Any suggestions there?"

He bites his lip and thinks for a second. "If—if you sit down and put your arm out on the back of the sofa," he says. "Then I'll sit down in your space. And you can—you can. Cuddle me. If you want to."

Roxanne nods. "Okay," she agrees. "Sure. And if you want to cuddle me, you do the same thing? Same cue? It counts as an ask."

Megamind stares at her for a good thirty seconds, and then suddenly he snaps his legs down and flings himself onto his feet. The chair goes rolling away behind him. "I __cannot __have this conversation with you in the kidnapping chair," he announces. "It's too weird. It is freaking me out. I am going to untie you, is that okay? We can continue negotiations—in—in the kitchen? I don't really—I don't know what—"

Roxanne has to laugh a little bit; he really does look weirded out. "Megamind, that's fine. You don't have to do any of this if you don't want to. Really, it's okay. It's just my family; it's fine if I show up without my mystery man."

He shakes his head. "No, I do __want__ to," he says. "This sounds—fun! I like fun! And very—it really is the little evils, you know? But it is also very new. And I like new things! I said I like new things! I wasn't lying. But! New things are—very new things. With, with the touching and the potential sweaters-wearing." He skips around behind her, starts picking at the knot on her wrists. "We should also talk hovercraft design," he adds, "as long as you're here. If—__if__ I was your boyfriend, __which I am not__, but if I was—I would ask for your input, yes? On the design? It's a big project. I feel like you should be involved."

"I would love to be involved," Roxanne tells him. "Yes, if I was your girlfriend, I would be flattered and pleased that you want to take my feelings into consideration."

"Ahahaha," he says, and the ropes fall away from her hands. "Okay! Okay. And—ooh, you'll need to have input on the controls, as well. Oh!" He darts in front of her. "Or I could surprise you on the design! But customize the controls according to your input?"

She nods. "That also sounds great, yeah."

He flashes his white smile at her, then holds out his long hands to help her to her feet. Suddenly uncertain, Roxanne lets him pull her up, then dusts herself off.

"Megamind," she says. "Are you sure about this? It's just…it seems like you're going to a lot of trouble for me, and you won't be getting much out of it except stress."

He blinks, cocks his huge head with puzzlement written all over his expressive face. "I'm not stressed."

"Not yet, but you will be," Roxanne says.

He shrugs. "I've been stressed before. I'll be fine. Miss Ritchi, this sounds like __fun!__ I don't have to know __why__ it sounds like fun. Must there always be a reason?" He grins. "Let's just have fun with this! Come on."

Oh. Well. That does make some sense, if she thinks about it that way. It sounds fun—sometimes that's all the reason you need. Yeah.

Yeah!

"Okay," she agrees, and puts a hand down to her side, bumps her pinkie against his. He glances down, then turns his hand to take hers. Quickly looks back up at her, and she sends him a smile. He relaxes.

__Okay__, she thinks, sudden relief about the whole stupid situation making her knees weak. __Okay, this—might actually be doable__.

* * *

****FantasticFish:**** ****IT'S HAPPENING  
****__MetroImperative:__ __wait, what? Whats happening  
MetroImperative:__ __are we doing a thing today  
__****FantasticFish:**** ****THEY ARE GOING TO CHRISTMAS WITH MISS RITCHI'S FAMILY IN MONTANA AAAAAHAHAHA PAY UP I WIN  
****__MetroImperative:__ __WHAT? Since when  
__****FantasticFish:**** ****since 45 seconds ago! when i suggested it!  
****__MetroImperative:__ __OH MY GOD  
__****FantasticFish:**** ****i'm so excited  
FantasticFish:**** ****i can't even see straight, it's all little hearts  
****__MetroImperative:__ __...it's not gonna work tho  
__****FantasticFish:**** ****whAT  
****__MetroImperative:__ __They're too dense! They'll never figure it out!  
__****FantasticFish:**** ****you are WRONG and would you like to know how I know that? Would you like to know? Ask me. Ask me how i know you're wrong  
****__MetroImperative:__ __how do u know  
__****FantasticFish:**** ****HE IS BUILDING HER  
FantasticFish:**** ****A HOVERCRAFT  
FantasticFish:**** ****CUSTOMIZED TO HER SPECIFICATIONS  
FantasticFish:**** ****AND CALIBRATED TO HER SPECIFIC SPATIOAUTONOMIC RESPONSES  
****__MetroImperative:__ __pretty sure roxie's spatial awareness is not great  
__****FantasticFish:**** ****he KNOWS that; that's why it's calibrated to HER RESPONSES****  
****FantasticFish:********missingthepoint dot jpeg  
FantasticFish:**** ****IT'S HAPPENING!****


	2. Chapter 2

Any excuse to put Megamind in warm clothes, am I right? Big cuddly sweater, hell yeah. Also, the idea of him taking sugar in his coffee literally until his coffee cannot take any more sugar is just unreasonably funny to me.

* * *

CHAPTER 2

Megamind seems almost absurdly excited about the prospect of sweaters, considering how leery he was about clothing that rubs to begin with. "I don't __know__," he says, when Roxanne asks if he's really okay trying this. "I don't know! It's—never occurred to me? To try that? It was always either spandex or clothing; the prospect of combining the two is __exciting!__"

He tells Roxanne he'll kidnap her again next week to give her a progress update on the hovercraft, and the clothing situation as well, and she jumps at the opportunity to shift the status quo.

"Absolutely not," she says, with what she hopes is an air of finality. "Boyfriends don't kidnap their girlfriends. Or vice versa. Just come over and pick me up, okay? I'm not going to be upset if I come home one evening and find you on the sofa."

And he sounds doubtful, but he does agree! So, that's a good sign! Not to mention a surprise; Roxanne sort of thought he would want to stick to their usual routine until their actual trip. But sure enough, she comes home four days later and finds Megamind blinking nervously at her from his perch on her sofa. And he is __perching;__ he's sitting on the back of the sofa with his long cape sweeping down behind him and his bare feet on the cushion. He's taken his boots off; they're sitting neatly by the balcony door.

"Hey," Roxanne says, dropping her keys into their bowl by the door and slinging her purse down on top of them, "I was wondering when you were going to show up! Are we in a rush? Can I get changed out of my work clothes?"

He perks up a little. "No rush," he says, waving a gloved hand. "Take your time."

"Awesome, thanks," Roxanne says, and hesitates. "Do you want—coffee? I feel bad just leaving you down here, let me put coffee on."

He perks up a lot. "I like coffee," he says. "Yes. Please," he adds, as an afterthought.

* * *

When Roxanne comes back downstairs, she's carrying the sweater Megamind mentioned before, the navy one with the penguin knitted into the front. "So," she says, "I don't know if you want to try it, but—here? Do you want—?" She holds it out.

Megamind blinks at it, then up at her, and then—

He smiles. He actually does. And it's a smile she hasn't seen on him, before: delighted and surprised and sort of confused and it lights up his whole blue face just completely. "Yes," he says, sounding just as taken aback as he looks. "Yes, I would like to try! Oh—yes, let me get my gloves off, first—"

Roxanne drapes the sweater over the back of the sofa. "Do you do milk in your coffee? Sugar?"

"Milk yes, sugar also yes," Megamind says, slowly working the first glove down over his arm, wiggling his long fingers to get them loose.

"How much of each?"

"Sugar until it precipitates out. Add milk after that, a healthy bloop."

Roxanne blinks, but shrugs to herself and starts spooning sugar into his mug and stirring. It…really is an incredible amount of sugar, but who even knows what Megamind's metabolism is like.

__A healthy bloop. Heh__.

(She has to get a bigger mug out of the cupboard and pour Megamind's coffee in before the sugar stops dissolving.)

When she turns around, she jumps—Megamind is standing in her kitchen with his arms held away from his sides, peering quizzically down at himself. His cape is off and his mantle is arranged over the back of one of Roxanne's chairs.

"I think I like this," he says slowly, dropping his arms and moving his shoulders so he can feel how the cloth moves. The sweater is tight around his wrists and just a little bit gathered in at the bottom hem, but it has a wide neck and the sleeves are bat-wing style, so rubbing against his body isn't an issue any more than it would be if he had a blanket draped around him. "I think…I do like this, anyway. It's so soft." He lifts his wrist up, brushes his cheek against the cuff.

Roxanne swallows. Megamind is—okay, first of all, with his shoulder array gone, he looks a lot smaller than usual, and standing flat-footed in his bare feet, he's actually a little bit shorter than she is. Or he would be, if his head was shaped like hers. And he's—wow, just absolutely rail-thin, his little skinny legs poking out of the bottom of Roxanne's massive sweater, dark navy blue against his black spandex and the sky-blue of his hands, and his feet are narrow and very bony and he has a big, friendly-looking penguin on his stomach instead of the usual ultramarine lightning bolt, and—

"Keep it," Roxanne blurts, before she can think. Megamind looks up at her, startled. She hands him his coffee in its oversized mug, sips her own coffee to cover how weirdly flustered she feels at the sight of him in her clothes, in a big, cozy sweater. "It looks good on you. If you like it, keep it."

He blinks. "But," he says, "it's your sweater. You like this sweater."

"Megamind, seriously, it's yours," she says, hoping he doesn't push her on this. She can't even say why she wants him to have it so badly, just—he looks so much softer without all the spikes, and the penguin is— "I have other sweaters. Merry Christmas."

He looks down at himself again, the tips of his ears turning pink. Which Roxanne does not mention, either.

But, good. This answers the question of what to get him for Christmas. Because she has noticed, over the years, the way most of Megamind's winter schemes take place in heated spaces—indoors, or in enclosed battlesuits—he does get cold. She knows this. He keeps the Lair freezing but Megamind __does__ get cold.

"Here," she says, "can I show you something fun with really big sweaters?"

"I like fun things," he says, sounding intrigued. "Yes, show me."

She follows him back over to the sofa and puts her mug down on the coffee table. "Okay, sit down," she says, "yeah, and then, um, pull your knees up to your chest?"

Megamind does so, then immediately makes a face and a noise like, "__Nyee__gh," and starts to put his feet down again.

"Wait—" Roxanne quickly tugs the hem of her sweater up and out from between his legs and his stomach, pulls it over his sharp knees and down to his ankles so he's sitting curled up inside the huge garment.

Megamind pauses, startled. "—oh," he says, blinking. "Oh. That's much better." He wiggles a little bit, shifts around, gets comfortable. Reaches for his coffee and holds it on top of his knees to blow on it, the corners of his mouth turning up in a pleased little smile.

Roxanne is __dying__. How, she wonders, how is it possible that she's the only one seeing this? Metro City's local supervillain all curled up inside a giant sweater with a too-big cup of coffee balanced on his knees? Dear lord.

"So we know I __can__ do sweaters, at the very least," Megamind tells her, green eyes sparkling up at her as he sips his coffee. "If they are large, and have wide sleeves with small cuffs. This is useful information, Miss Ritchi! It turns out I __do__ fit a given value of normal."

Roxanne sits down on the end of the sofa and carefully stretches her arm out along the back of the cushion. Megamind glances at it, then at her, and raises an eyebrow.

"Practice?" she asks. He hesitates, but then he nods.

"Can you…?" He holds out his cup of coffee, and Roxanne takes it in the hand that isn't stretched along the back of the sofa. Megamind turns and scoots himself toward her, turns his back a little, scoots in close beside her and cautiously, carefully leans against her side. "Okay?" he asks, still stiff and sounding worried. "This is—this is right, yes? This is okay?"

"This is perfect," Roxanne confirms, and he relaxes into her. "Yep, this is exactly what I was thinking."

Megamind makes a pleased little humming sound and takes his coffee back from her. "Great minds think alike," he says.

"And you're still okay?" she wants to know. "The sweater is okay?"

"Yes," he says, still sounding mildly surprised about this. "It's—interesting. It. I can feel it moving on me but it isn't bad. It doesn't scrape." He pauses, shifts around a little. Subsides.

"This is good coffee," he says, a minute later.

"Thanks," Roxanne replies.

She's cuddling with the extraterrestrial supervillain who kidnaps her approximately once every week and a half. She is cuddling with him because he has agreed to be her __pretend fucking boyfriend__, because apparently his best friend needs a break? Or something? Whatever.

"So, the hovercraft," Megamind says, sipping his drink. "It's…less of a hovercraft, more of a small airship capable of hovering. Like the hoverbike, you understand."

"Airship doesn't have the same ring to it as hovercraft," Roxanne agrees, and Megamind does a little squiggly thing with his shoulders.

"I knew you would get it," he says, pleased. "Yes. Exactly. And it's going to be small, built for maneuverability and speed. There are beds—small beds, of course—allowing for overnight journeys, but they probably won't be terribly comfortable." Then he scowls. "Minion said I can't fit four beds in," he says. "I intend to prove him wrong."

"That's okay," Roxanne says. "I doubt we'll need them; Bozeman isn't that far by air."

"I don't care," he mumbles into his mug, "show that fish who's boss."

Roxanne snorts. She lifts the arm that was lying on the back of the couch and Megamind lowers his cup and immediately starts to sit up, but she says, "Wait, hang on. Can I…is it okay if we do this?" and she folds her arm around his chest, just below his collarbones.

Megamind settles back. Says nothing. Apparently is completely content to just…sit. With her.

"Okay?" Roxanne asks, now very glad indeed that she had the idea to practice this before implementing it in front of her family. "Or no?"

Megamind clears his throat. "Yes," he says, sounding…surprised? Is it surprise she's hearing? "Yes, okay. This is. I like this."

"You sure? It's a lot of new stuff, it seems like."

He nods. "I'm sure. I—the big sweater with my legs inside it, I __like __that," he declares. "And. I like. This? The, the leaning-back-on and the arm-squeezed-around. I do like that, too." He's quiet for a moment, and then he says, "And you make surprisingly delicious coffee, Miss Ritchi; I am impressed."

She grins, pleased and feeling a little more at ease with the whole situation, herself. She already knew she would probably get along well with Megamind outside of a kidnapping scenario; they talk enough before he sets his schemes in motion for her to know what he's like in general. But that doesn't mean she isn't sort of nervous about this, anyway. She keeps feeling butterflies every time she thinks about the trip, but with Megamind here, leaning against her—

This is okay. Nice, even.

"Well, good," she says, "I'm glad. And it's good you like cuddling, too; that's going to make this a lot more believable when we get there. A little cuddling goes a long way."

"__Exc__ellent," Megamind says again, and Roxanne knows exactly which evil smile he's wearing by the way his voice goes.

* * *

He drops Roxanne off at home after nailing down the last information he needed about the controls for the Invisible Hovercraft. This is! Exciting! Exciting in a new and different way than most of his plans recently have been exciting. Megamind has felt, recently, sort of like he's been going through the motions. Not __down__, exactly, just…he used to be more excited about his plans. He's sure he used to. He used to feel like this __all the time__, and—wow, he misses it more than he realized.

It was nice, really, having Miss Ritchi at the Lair while conscious and not tied up in a chair. Nice, really, seeing her laugh with Minion like they're old friends. Which they are, sort of, but—well, no, they aren't. Not __friends__. But she and Minion have always sort of clicked together. She even asked him __again __if he wanted to come along, but Minion declined, said he really wasn't into the whole __travel__ thing any more than he was the __social__, and he would much rather have a quiet few days at home. Besides, somebody needs to make sure the brainbots and the alligators get their enrichment time.

And she smiled at Minion and nodded at him, and said she understood. She didn't push him. Minion sounded…surprised? Surprised and sort of grateful about that. Megamind is going to make more of an effort going forward not to push his friend. __Surprised __shouldn't have been Minion's reaction to that. Megamind does feel badly, there.

She laughed with Minion, and she played around with the various prototype controls Megamind came up with for her to try out, and she knew exactly how to throw the wrench for the brainbots when they came up to see if she wanted to play. She had the voice of command down __pat__. Put her hand out flat and said, "Drop it," and the bot with the wrench __dropped it__, and Roxanne said, "Good! That's so good! What a good bot! Go get it!" And spun on her toes and just __hurled __the wrench end-over-end into the dark of Evil Lair with her __whole arm__.

And then she looked over at Megamind with a smile on her face and she said, "I love your brainbots, I really do," and Megamind could not stop wiggling for the next five minutes or so because, really, he is not a large man and he can only contain so much happy before he has to bleed it off somehow.

The whole evening left Megamind with an unfamiliar warm little glow behind his sternum, left him with a spring in his step, left him excited and curious about what the next month will bring. He's enjoyed Miss Ritchi's company for a while now, enjoyed talking with her and filling her in on his evil plans before he sets the cameras rolling, but this is a whole new level of company. Lots of new kinds of talking.

It feels nice! Which means, of course, that it feels dangerous. But Megamind has been responsible and respectful thus far; he's pretty sure he'll be able to manage for three days.

And! He's going to visit for __Christmas!__ Actual Christmas, which is not when he usually celebrates—the date is somewhat fraught for him, not exactly happy memories—but it means he can give her a __gift!__ He already knows exactly what he's giving her, too; he's nearly finished with the final blueprints. This is a project he already had mostly coded but never could quite bring himself to finish—it always seemed too—it makes him uncomfortable to think about, usually. The baseline AI is—a little too gentle for him.

But it is perfect for Miss Ritchi. She'll love it, he's sure.

Truth be told, he made something else sort of for her years ago, but __that__ is an absolute non-starter. He made it for her, but—the making of it was more for himself. He had needed to finally acknowledge the depth of his upsetting fixation on her and hopefully get himself over that hurdle.

It worked, in a way. His fixation isn't any less, but he was able to stop feeling as badly about it as he used to. As long as he keeps his distance, remains respectful of her privacy and her life, he'll be okay. He isn't doing anything dangerous or wrong. Yes, he's kidnapping her, but he isn't stalking her. Yes, it's a conflict of interest, but Minion acts as a willing touchstone and so Megamind doesn't need to agonize about overstepping. He agonizes anyway, of course, but he doesn't __need__ to.

So it's fine. It's okay.

He presses his face against Roxanne's sweater and breathes in. He knows, rationally, he cannot wear this sweater all the time, but…well, perhaps he will have some other sweaters made, in similar styles, in colors that are more his usual. But he is definitely keeping this penguin sweater. It's so soft! It is clothes he can wear without wanting to claw his way out of his skin! Minion is making other clothes for him to try, but even if none of them work, he has this. And! It smells like Miss Ritchi, who smells __amazing__, which is bonus.


	3. Chapter 3

look, __you__ know she's in love with him and __I__ know she's in love with him, but if I have trouble recognizing romantic and sexual attraction, then Roxanne is allowed to be baffled about it as well, dangit

* * *

CHAPTER 3

Roxanne was sort of thinking he was only going to stop by the once, so she's genuinely startled to find Megamind perching nervously on the back of her sofa again halfway through the following week. "Hey," she says. Keys in the bowl, purse on top of keys. "What's up? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Um," Megamind says, hunching and looking around like he's expecting something to jump out at him. "Minion wasn't—that is, I wasn't sure if—" He swallows, sits up straight, and says clearly, "Minion said he is having a bad day and wanted to be left alone. So, so I came. Here?"

Huh. Well, that's okay. He's her fake boyfriend; he's allowed to turn up unannounced. "Okay," Roxanne says, "well, take your cape off and make yourself at home, I guess. Have you had dinner?"

He blinks at her, looking mildly surprised as he reaches for the clasp at his throat. "I have not," he says.

Roxanne nods. "I should really eat leftovers but I have a __huge__ craving for Chinese," she says. "You okay with that?"

Megamind cocks his head. "Where are you ordering from?"

"Hop Kee," she tells him. "You know of them?"

He does, in fact. They keep their kitchen immaculately clean and they're Minion's first choice for takeout. Megamind's too, if he's honest. So he nods, and Roxanne grins. "Excellent," she says. "You already know what you want?"

He nods again.

"Perfect," she says, fishing her phone out of her purse and dialing. "—Hi, Biming," she says, a couple seconds later, "it's Roxanne Ritchi calling, I'll just get my usual. And I've got a guest as well, he'll have…?"

Oh. Right. He's not sure what it is in English; he's never needed to know. He scowls and hops down off the couch, crosses quickly to her and lifts the phone from her fingers. "有没有卤水墨鱼?" he asks, because sometimes they have it and sometimes they don't, but the orange cuttlefish is his favorite thing in the world and whatever, he's buying. Roxanne doesn't know it yet, but he is. And luck is on his side, for once. So he orders that, and he also asks for pea shoots with garlic, because why not and also because at least this way he'll be able to tell Minion he ate something green, and then he thanks the surprised-sounding person on the other end of the line and hands the phone back to Roxanne.

Who is staring at him. Who looks completely taken aback. Who jumps when he gives her the phone and grabs it, laughs into it, says thank you, yes, that'll be fine, thank you so much, okay, bye! And hangs up. And stares at Megamind again. "Since when are you fluent in Chinese?"

He shrugs. "Cantonese. I don't know the food names in English," he says. He can feel color rising in his cheeks, but he's not sure whether he should draw himself up and either sneer or crow about it like he usually would. "Never learned."

Roxanne shakes her head. "Impressive," she says. "I'm—wow. Okay, well, I'm going to go and get changed, um…"

Megamind nods, and says—because it feels like he's supposed to say something here—except no __not this__— "Good plan, you do that."

He says it pleasantly enough, but he can feel the Wrong as it leaves his mouth. That. Wasn't a Right Thing To Say. Oops.

But Roxanne just looks back over her shoulder at him and says, in what he's pretty sure is an approximation of his voice, "__All__ my plans are good plans, Megamind! When will you learn! Aaaaa ha ha ha." And disappears.

…so maybe that was an okay thing to say, after all. Megamind is smiling a little as he settles carefully back against the couch to take off his gloves.

Roxanne reappears a few minutes later in loose trousers—lounge pants? he wonders—and a tee shirt from…

Megamind blinks. "Were you at that concert?"

Roxanne glances down at herself. "What, Cynic? Yeah, I went and saw them while they were on tour with Meshuggah back in '09." She drops herself down onto the sofa next to him, sits sideways with her back against the armrest and her feet on the cushion. "Meshuggah goes a little too hard on the drums for me, but I like Cynic's early stuff."

"Huh," he says, mouth turning up into a surprised smile. "I wouldn't have figured you for a metalhead, Miss Ritchi."

She grins. "I like your soundtracks," she admits, and she's rewarded when his face lights up. "The songs you pick to back your battles are winners nine times out ten, really." Then, while he's still smiling, she says, "I'm glad you're here, I thought we should maybe talk about—about things to avoid?"

His face drops into suspicion as quickly as he always switches expressions. "Avoid," he echoes.

"We've been dating for six months, supposedly." Roxanne shrugs. "There are things you would know about me after six months, things I would know about you, that…we'll need to know if we're going to pull this off."

Megamind studies her for a moment. "Such as?" he finally asks.

"Well, so…do you have any sensitivities or phobias I should steer clear of? Or steer you clear of, if you need me to? "

His face closes off. "I would prefer not to disclose that," he says stiffly.

"I'm not going to use it against you," Roxanne tries to assure him. "You're doing me a favor. I wouldn't do that."

Megamind's answering smile is thin, and doesn't reach his eyes. "You say that now," he says. "But everyone has a price. Even if you don't use it against me—if you write it down, and someone sees; if you need money, and someone offers you a bribe—"

"I am not going to __sell you out__," Roxanne protests, horrified. "Megamind, I am fine on money. I'm fortunate that way, I—good lord, I have my family, I have Wayne—sorry, but it's true—I have options. I wouldn't do that to you. And I have no reason to write any of this down."

He shakes his head. "No," he says, not looking at her. "No. I—can't."

After a moment, Roxanne nods. "Fair enough. You don't have to tell me." She pauses. "Personally, I don't do well when I feel like someone is trying to needlessly control me."

Megamind frowns. "I tie you to a chair," he says, but Roxanne laughs.

"Not like that," she says. "That's okay, I don't mind that." He cocks an eyebrow at her and she makes a face. "It's more like…if I'm doing something harmless, and somebody tells me, stop doing that. I get upset."

He blinks. "That sounds. Reasonable. That sounds like a reasonable thing to get upset at."

Roxanne smiles wryly. "My mother tends to do it a lot, still. All my life. Like, when I was a kid, I would always be playing with something with my feet while I read. I would lie on the floor and fidget with a toy with my toes, or push another book back and forth between my ankles. Or I would sit on the sofa and dig my toes down between the cushions and scoot them around there. Every time my mom saw me doing that, she told me to stop with my feet." She shrugs. "Now I almost always sit with my feet tucked up when I'm not in my work clothes. And I get upset when people tell me to stop moving them. Come on! I'm already doing my best!"

Megamind nods slowly. "Not…being believed," he says. "I don't—it—jokes are one thing. But." There's a bitter twist to his mouth. "When I was a child and said, __I'm trying__. The answer—invariably! without exception!—was __no, you aren't__. Or, if not that blatant, then it was __not hard enough__, or __it must not really matter to you__."

"If you really were trying, you'd succeed," Roxanne murmurs, "just try harder," and he nods.

"Yes. That. I __hate__ that."

They're both quiet for a while, and then Roxanne says, "Well, I will try not to casually dismiss your efforts, then," and Megamind grins.

"And I will let you shove your cold toes under my leg all you like," he says, and Roxanne blinks and looks down.

"Oh! For crying out—Megamind, you could have said something!"

He laughs. "You didn't seem to know you were doing it; it was conversationally relevant; I didn't want to bother you!" He shakes his head, grinning at her with all his white teeth. "I don't __mind__."

She purses her lips, embarrassed. "Okay," she sighs, still blushing furiously. "Sorry."

"To be perfectly honest, I'm a little concerned, Miss Ritchi," he continues, his grin going mischievous. "The fact that your feet are cold enough to register as freezing to __me__ is something you may want to discuss with a medical professional. My body temperature is significantly lower than a human's."

Roxanne laughs. "You're sweet. My feet are always cold, it's nothing to worry about."

"Hmm," he says, dubious but still grinning. And then he has to hide behind the couch while the delivery person from Hop Kee refuses to accept a very confused Roxanne's credit card.

"What do you __mean__, my date already paid for dinner," he hears her say, and—because the opportunity is __perfect__—he sucks in a breath and sends Evil Laugh #5 rolling around her apartment.

"You—!" Roxanne exclaims. "Okay. Well, here's a tip for driving this out to us, anyway. Thank you! Have a good night, yes, you too, bye!"

He hears a rustling, a crinkling of bags, and then the couch behind him creaks and Roxanne's head and shoulders pop over the top of it. "Megamind, you ding-dong, who told you you were allowed to pay for dinner?"

He tips his head back and beams up at her upside-down, still laughing at his unmitigated success. She'd had no idea! She really hadn't! Ahahaha! Fantastic, well done, him. "Evil does not __ask__ these things, Miss Ritchi!" he cries, stabbing a finger into the air and only very narrowly missing her nose. "Evil goes and __does__. Do you have extra duck sauce? They never have enough in those little packets."

"Yeah, in the door of the refrigerator. Under the eggs. Thanks for getting dinner," she adds, as he rolls to his feet and heads for the kitchenette, "you didn't have to."

He flaps a hand at her. "I'm told it's the thing to do when showing up unannounced," he calls back.

"Bring the water jug, too?" she asks. A blue hand pokes a thumbs-up sign out from behind the open refrigerator door, and Roxanne laughs to herself as she starts unpacking takeout containers from the brown paper bag.

By unspoken agreement, they have dinner sitting on the couch, with the coffee table pulled in so they can reach their food.

"So," Roxanne says, after they've had a few bites, "with regards to cuddling. Anything I should avoid touching? Are you ticklish?"

He glares up at her. "Miss Ritchi I __am not telling you__ whether I am ticklish."

She sniffs haughtily. "I shall just have to find out on my own, then."

"Don't you dare. Turnabout is fair play, and I play to win." Grinning, he pops another bite of cuttlefish into his mouth. "But, in all seriousness. Stay away from the back of my neck—well, and the front of my neck—just my neck in general, let's go with that. You should be fine otherwise."

Roxanne laughs. "Will do. I am ticklish, so please don't dig your fingers into my side. And if you're going to grab my butt, fine, but announce yourself first. Surprise butt-grabs will get you punched."

Megamind chokes and recoils, looking completely shocked and hilariously scandalized. "I am—I am not going to __grab__ your __butt!__ What on earth—why would you—"

Roxanne raises her eyebrows, struggling not to laugh and mostly failing. "Aw, why? Is my butt not nice enough for grabbing?"

"No—no, it's very—Miss Ritchi! You can't just—!" There's a high flush of pink across his cheeks and up his ears, and Roxanne is laughing helplessly. He just looks __so offended__. "Why would I—now __see here__, Miss Ritchi, I really don't think—"

"Okay," she gasps, waving at him. "Okay! I'm—okay. You won't grab my butt, okay."

"Yes, and __you__ in turn will not grab __my__ butt!" he exclaims, staring at her. "Both my neck __and my butt__, off-limits for grabbing! This is a butt-grabless relationship!"

Roxanne doubles over again, because she is five years old, apparently. It's just—Megamind's face is __so expressive__, and his vocal inflection is __so broad__, and Roxanne has never seen anyone clutch their pearls so very clearly while wearing black leather and spandex.

She nods. "Okay," she squeaks again. "Yep. No butts. Promise."

He wrinkles his nose at her. "You're laughing at me."

Roxanne straightens, blotting at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. "I am," she agrees, still sort of laughing, but there's nothing in her tone that makes him bristle. "I am. I wasn't expecting you to be so scandalized."

"I __kidnap__ you," he says, "I am not going to grab your butt."

She smiles at him. "You're sweet," she says again, and he jerks his head back.

"That isn't—I'm not __sweet! __It's the bare minimum of decency!"

"I know, I know. I promise."

"I wouldn't!"

"I know you wouldn't," she assures him, still smiling. "Megamind, I know you wouldn't."

He scowls. "I wouldn't," he mutters. "It would be—wrong. Rude." He lifts part of his dinner, takes another vengeful bite out of it.

Roxanne cocks her head. "What are you eating?"

He swallows. "Cuttlefish. They almost never have it; it's hard to get inland. But I love it. I always ask."

She raises her eyebrows. "Can I try?"

Megamind blinks at her, surprised. She—but he's had his mouth on this, sort of. His chopsticks have touched his mouth and his food, and she still—

"Of course," he says slowly, "if you want to. Here." He offers her his takeout container so she can try a piece.

"Huh," she says, passing it back after a moment. "Sort of like squid. But…heavier? That's not bad. Thank you."

He studies her for a moment. Not for the first time, he wonders if maybe he's in over his head on this one, after all. Only a week or so ago, he was still kidnapping her like usual, and now…now he's sitting on her sofa, eating Chinese food, and joking—he's pretty sure she was joking—about grabbing each other's butts. He should feel __so __much more worried and freaked out about all this than he does, shouldn't he?

Well, but no, they've known each other for nearly a decade, now. They've seen each other more or less once a week for nine or so __years__; that must count for something, familiarity-wise. And they do joke regularly with each other even when Roxanne is in the kidnapping chair. This is just…a different venue. And it's about time he did her a favor and repaid some of the time she's spent unwillingly helping him further his plots.

It isn't as though he's __attached __to her. Or anything. This has nothing to do with attachment or attraction; Megamind is just…he's just territorial. That's all. This is just his usual territoriality coming into play; it must be. She told him about the relationship thing with her family and it nettled him because that's what Megamind is, it's what he does. Megamind doesn't get __attached__. He gets territorial. Not possessive, exactly, but—protective.

(Protective, and sometimes clingy in a way humans don't seem to know how to handle. He is going to have to be careful about this. What Megamind feels is mostly nothing, except for when he does feel something, and when he does, he feels it __a lot__. Too much. Most of what Megamind does—most of what Megamind is—is Too Much. In some fashion or other.)

(He's never been entirely sure how to correctly express __you feel like a safe person for me to be around__ without eventually being told, look, the amount of time you want to spend in my presence is Too Much and you need to Back Off. The few humans who were kind to him in his school years before he got fed up with trying…they all eventually pushed him back, pushed him away. He could not bear it if that happened with Roxanne.)

But that's fine, he's fine. He's fine as long as he stays in the Lair and in the Prison for the Criminally Gifted and doesn't pretend to himself that he fits anywhere else.

The trouble is that what he feels towards Roxanne is mostly __want__. He wants more of him in more contact with her. Any way she likes, really; he isn't picky. He just. He just wants…more. Is all. He knows that's wrong on multiple levels, knows he should tell her, warn her, but…he really is enjoying the whole __cuddling__ business. Are they going to do cuddling again, today? After dinner? Maybe?

It's not a problem. The way he feels about her is—wrong, definitely, for sure—she's just the most beautiful person he's ever seen, is all, but Megamind refuses to let that be an issue. So it's fine. It's fine. It's just that it pops into his mind at weird intervals.

And he __really__ wasn't expecting the odd little flare of warmth to spike through him when she asked to share his food with no apparent hesitation. That threw him for a loop.

He shakes himself. Shut it down, he tells himself. Put it in the vault with the rest of your wantings and don't look at it again, you weird, weird creature.

"That was good," Roxanne says, putting her empty takeout container down on the coffee table and sitting back on the sofa, legs crossed. "Ah. Thank you for giving me an excuse to get takeout, you couldn't have had better timing."

She smiles over at him and he thinks __want to put my head in your lap__ and—

Nope nope nope put that in the vault as well; that is not a useful thing to want, Megamind. Not useful. Not appropriate. Stop that.

"I do my best," he says, "anything for you, Miss Ritchi," and something in the ugly, hollowed out space in his chest twitches when her smile goes startled and soft around the edges.

* * *

Minion comes and picks her up the next week, and he lets her sit in the front seat of the Invisible Car. He does ask her to put on a blindfold eventually, but for a while it feels like they're just two friends driving through the city, chatting.

Tight-fitting clothing overtop of the spandex __does __work, he says, something Megamind is fervently excited about. And Minion himself is absolutely tickled pink to have a wider range of patterns to use and a wider variety of fabrics to choose from.

"He really never thought of wearing the spandex under anything?" she asks, amazed.

"I don't think he ever really thought of clothing as an option for him," Minion says. "He used to try to wear it, sometimes, when he was still in school. But that was before we started living on our own and I started designing his uniforms, and human clothing doesn't…it fits him oddly. The only slacks that fit his hips cut off just below his knees, and he can't wear tee shirts; they won't go over his head. Zip-up or button-down are the only shirts he can wear, and either they fit wrong in the shoulders or they're far too loose around his middle. It's a nightmare." He shakes his head.

Roxanne stares at him. "He's never had pants that fit?"

"He did get a pair of jeans that reached his ankles, one time," he tells her. "He was just so tired of being stared at for the clothes on top of—of everything else. They were terribly baggy and he __hated __how they moved, but he was determined to make a go of it. But he had to belt them so hard that—well, they—they bunched so badly around the belt, especially under where his backpack hung, that they rubbed him raw around his waist after only a couple of days. It was awful.

"So by the time I got my first sewing machine, he was frantic. All he wanted was something stretchy." He shrugs gently, and goodness, yes, Roxanne can absolutely understand that. "Once he found spandex…that was it, for him. He couldn't see the point of much else; he was sick of the whole thing. Spandex and leather, from there on out.

"Well," he amends, "polyethylfullerene and leather, now. It's thicker than spandex and much more difficult to penetrate. Breathable. And I can install convenient seams, which is useful in an, um, undersuit-type capacity. But the function is the same."

"To act as a second skin," Roxanne says, and Minion nods.

"He—really is excited about this, Miss Ritchi," he says, after a moment. "Growing up, all anyone ever said was __get used to it__. You offered a solution. A solution that __worked__."

"I mean, I get it," she says slowly. "Texture stuff is—I get it. Nobody should have to be uncomfortable like that if there's a way around it."

Minion nods again. "Yes, I think so too," he says, "and thank you for thinking of a way around it instead of just pushing him on it.

"He's excited about the trip itself, too, and I wanted to talk to you, Miss Ritchi, because it's—it's been a long time since I've seen him this cheerful. He said—he said you practiced? Hugging?"

She nods. "Cuddling," she says. "On the couch. Nothing major."

Minion is quiet.

"Is something wrong?" Roxanne asks.

"I'm not sure," he says slowly. "I need you to understand…he wouldn't want you to make yourself uncomfortable for the sake of performance. So, if you don't…oh, I don't know how to say this. Um."

She frowns and leans forward in the passenger seat a little so she can see his worried face. "Minion, I don't have a problem with touching him," she says, because she could be wrong but she does know Minion, and she's pretty sure that's something he would worry about. "It's different than it would be if he kidnapped me." He nods, but he doesn't look terribly convinced. "I'm serious," she presses. "I'm—really fine. I promise. Does—can I ask, does he really like new things as much as he says?"

Minion nods. "He and I aren't really creatures of habit as much as I think humans are," he says. "Sir gets bored easily. New experiences are special to him. This, in particular," he adds, "is special to him. Other than the prison and Evil Lair, he doesn't have many places he can physically go. Being able to leave the state is…he really is looking forward to going with you." He pauses, then glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "And he is…fond of you, personally."

She smiles. "I'm fond of him, too," she says.

She's running mostly on autopilot when she says it, busy thinking of what a shame it is that someone with Megamind's thirst for adventure and innovation has to stay cooped up all the time, but she hears the words leave her mouth and she—nearly panics and tries to cover for herself, but—

No, that's true, though. It's true enough, she is fond of him.

She's—

Oh. Oh, crap.

Shit. Okay. That's not a problem, it's fine, it's—it's just that she was thinking today that she's probably going to need to kiss him, at some point, and she was already trying to keep from thinking about how attractive he is. Crap.

Roxanne doesn't always recognize physical attraction the way other people seem to—past experience would indicate she needs to feel something warm and fuzzy toward someone at the very least before desire comes into the picture—but she's always sort of assumed Megamind was an exception to that because the man moves like a __liquid,__ for crying out loud; how could she not notice? And so she's been ignoring it, so far, because this endeavor really has no room for sexual attraction. And so far, she's been doing well at ignoring it! They've tried cuddling a couple different ways, now, and they're both comfortable with it.

But cuddling is one thing. Kissing is something else entirely. Roxanne was going to broach that subject this visit, but…now that she knows there's an emotional component to her feelings toward Megamind…

Best to hold off. At least for now. Until she's sure what the emotional component is, exactly. Definitely positively absolutely __cannot__ suggest kissing today, because flying blind around this feels like a recipe for some kind of disaster that will end up with one or both of them hurt. She needs to be careful. She can deal with pain, but if Megamind gets hurt over this—

She would prefer Megamind not get hurt over this. Is all.

But it's hard, so hard—when Megamind turns and sees her and his face lights up and she feels herself light up now, too—__not__ to want to kiss him when he waves her over to show her his progress on the controls for the nearly-finished hovercraft. Fuck, she wants to hold his hand and she __also__ does __very much want__ to kiss him and now she knows why.

She was tied up before. None of this was ever an option, before. The only option available to her was recognizing him as attractive, which she did, and there she stopped, but—

Now she __isn't __tied to a chair; now physically reaching out is an __option__. She's been operating under the assumption that any desire for physical contact with Megamind was just good sense, this past week or so—they'll need to be physically affectionate in front of her family, so of course they'll need to practice.

But apparently not. Apparently he __isn't__ an exception to the warm-fuzzy rule; apparently her feelings for him run deeper than she thought. Fuck. Okay.

* * *

She lies awake that night for a long time, trying to sort through her emotions and sentiments and failing completely. She starts with the basics and biffs it right out of the gate. She asks herself if Megamind is her friend. Which should be easy enough to answer, because…he is, isn't he? Of course he is; he has to be. Except that __friend__ doesn't feel like the right box for Megamind; the way she thinks of him, he's more like…

More like…

She rolls onto her side and frowns into the dark. How many non-family boxes are there? Not very many. Acquaintance, friend, extra-good-friend, boyfriend—

Partner.

Huh. That fits. Okay…but is that __romantic__ partner, or __platonic__ partner? She's seen Megamind and Minion together enough times to know the latter is just as viable in the long term as the former. Is Megamind just—just the best friend she's ever had? Who she also sometimes very much wants to kiss? Is this what a best friend is, and the kissing-slash-physical-desire component is tacked on because Roxanne is sort of strange about a lot of things?

She doesn't know.

Crud.

Well, she decides, confused and wondering what the heck is going on with her, she'll stay the course, and pay attention, and just…hold off on the kissing for now. Yeah. That'll work.


	4. Chapter 4

Megamind's sandwiches are taken directly from Calvin and Hobbes. The arc titled Yukon Ho! if I recall correctly. And his story about the AI-generated Halloween costumes is from a post about neural nets on . I'd post a link but ffnet won't let me, so just google _aiweirdness halloween costumes GPT-2_ and you should find it pretty quickly. Or google "skunk in a moose suit" in quotes. Definitely do go read it, though; I laughed so hard I cried.

* * *

CHAPTER 4

Megamind opens Roxanne's balcony door carefully, still unused to this being something he's allowed to do. Roxanne's voice is sharp and she's walking in agitated circles around and around her sofa.

"No, Mom, for the last time, we don't need a ride from the airport," she's saying. "Yes, I'm sure. __Yes__, I'm—we have our own ride. Yes, all the way from the airport; we'll be fine. Anyway—__anyway__, I should let you get back to what you're doing—

"Yes, Mom, I know there's—I know there's snow. Yes, I know, I know there's a __lot__ of snow, but it's okay, we aren't actually drive—I know that! I grew up in Montana, Mom, I—__yes,__ I remember how to drive in snow! I live in __Michigan!__"

Megamind waves as he closes the balcony door behind him. Roxanne glances at him, nods a greeting, doesn't stop scowling or stalking around her couch.

"I'm—no, we __do not need__ a ride, we don't—Mom I'm fine, I should really go—Oh, yes, because __Rose __drives in snow __all the time;__ yeah, I'm definitely going to land in Bozeman and suddenly call the house like 'hello __younger__ sister who lives in New __Fucking __Mexico, can you come pick me up because you're a real grown up who can drive in the snow.'

"I—I am calm! This is calm! Don't—oh, __don't __tell me not to get defensive when __you're __the one basically telling me I'm a child because I must have somehow forgotten how to drive in snow! Because snow just doesn't happen in Michigan, I guess—

"Mom, I have to go. I have to go. Yeah, Mega—Micah is here. No, yeah, we're—we have a date. __No __we do not need a ride in from—well, you're welcome to come to the airport anyway, but we won't fucking __be there!__ Because we have made __other arrangements!__ Because we are adults who have made __our own travel plans!__

"I will see you at the house in a few days. I have to go. Mom, I have to go." She stops walking so abruptly she stumbles. "I have to go. I have—I have to __go!__ I have to go I have to—enough! Mom! Enough! I have to go!"

Megamind approaches quietly and holds out a hand, palm up, eyebrows tweaking up in the middle of his forehead in a silent ask. Roxanne drops the phone into his palm and drops her face into her hands in almost the same motion.

"We're leaving now," Megamind says into the phone, speaking too loudly even to his own ears. "So excited to meet you, Mrs. Ritchi, we'll see you on the twenty-third! OKAY YES GOODBYE MRS RITCHI" and he stabs the end-call button and quickly turns the ringer off.

Roxanne is standing very still, with both hands over her face. Megamind can't hand the phone back to her like that, so he sets it down on her coffee table.

"Miss…Roxanne," he says. "Um."

She doesn't move. "Okay," Megamind says. "I'm going to make coffee now. If you need to scream, I won't count it against you."

He figures out the coffee maker without too much trouble; one coffee maker is pretty much like another once you know how the parts fit together. Once it's bubbling away, he comes back over to where Roxanne is still standing motionless behind the couch, and he sits down sideways and cross-legged and leans sideways against the back of it.

"I'm going to pat your arm," he announces, so as not to surprise her, "in what I hope is a comforting fashion," and he carefully, awkwardly does so.

Hopefully it's okay that he's still here. Does—maybe she wants to be alone? She wasn't expecting him tonight. He just—he needed to—

Anyway. Hopefully it's okay that he's still here.

"I just get tired," Roxanne mumbles into her hands, "of hearing how whatever I'm doing is somehow wrong. Or stupid."

Megamind drops his hand, leans on his elbow on the back of the sofa. "Your mother thinks you can't drive in snow?"

Roxanne pulls a long, deep breath, then drops her arms to her sides and comes around the couch to sit down and put her face in her hands again. "My mother gets…worried. Sometimes it makes her irrational. That's all. Can you turn off the light."

The sofa shifts. A moment later there's a click.

"Do you need me to leave," Megamind asks. Roxanne shakes her head.

"No, I'm…I'm okay, I just…I can't handle anything bright. Right now. Can you see?"

"I see wonderfully in the dark, Miss Ritchi," he assures her, coming back to sit on the sofa. "And I am summoning Ducky for you."

Roxanne barely hears him.

She's usually a lot better at recognizing the warning signs, she usually has a much tighter grip on herself, but with her mother…everything creeps in under Roxanne's radar and suddenly it's too late to extricate herself, too late to get out of the interaction, and the next thing she knows is she's shouting into the phone again like a crazy person because her mother is worried about her. Because Roxanne is the crazy one in the family, apparently.

And she can't—she's __so angry!__—and! she can't even say why! except that it feels like her mother thinks she's completely incompetent, and Roxanne __isn't__, she __isn't__, and her mother should __know better__.

Roxanne should know better, too. Should know not to get defensive. This is her fault, of course, because it's always Roxanne's fault when this happens; this is just her fault for not paying closer attention to herself and not getting off the phone when she should have. Her fault for missing lunch today. Roxanne can play around with her daily routine in some respects, but meals—no.

(But I __tried __to get off the phone! she wails at herself. I tried! __I tried!__ I told her I needed to go! I said, no thank you, we're fine, we'll be okay on our own! I should let you go, I should really go, I—I tried and __why wasn't that the end of it?__ Why did the conversation not end when I wanted it to? I tried to get away! I __tried!__)

"Ah, excellent," she hears Megamind say, as though from a long way off. "Here we are. Miss Ritchi, Ducky; Ducky, Miss Ritchi. I don't believe you've met."

Roxanne catches the inflection of introduction and glances up to see—a brainbot. A brainbot whose dome is absolutely plastered over in nubbly blunt studs, so thick she can barely see its braincore. Its glow is muted, twinkling dimly out from between the studs.

"What," she says, bewildered.

"Pet her," he says, in the tone of someone offering something, and Roxanne looks at him. "Ducky is one of my calmest brainbots. Her flight goes off the electromagnetic field of—that's not important. What's important is, Ducky is safe to be in direct contact with fabric, so you can hold her in your lap. And she isn't a particularly sharp bot, either. Ducky is…pretty much exclusively a comfort bot?" Roxanne is still just looking at him, blinking up at him in the dark, and he's starting to sound embarrassed. "Sort of the brainbot equivalent of a hot-water bottle, really. Or a Pekingese. She's nice for patting and she's warm."

Roxanne reaches out and rubs her palm over the nubbly dome. It does feel nice.

"And now I shall go and retrieve your bathrobe!" Megamind announces, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. "Bathrobes always make me feel better. Where…?"

"Um," says Roxanne, "I just…actually bought a new one, it's hanging on the back of my bedroom door. It's new, can you bring scissors, too? I have some on my dresser, right-hand side, the little basket by the wall."

Megamind nods. "I will return promptly," he says, and trots off across her apartment.

Roxanne blinks at the brainbot hovering nearby. "Your name is Ducky?" she asks, and she bowgs something Roxanne recognizes as an affirmative. "Can you come sit?" She pats her legs, and Ducky's muted glow drifts down and settles in her lap. Megamind was right: the bot is warm. And she is nice for patting, like rubbing bare feet on carpeting. Huh.

She looks up as Megamind comes back a minute or so later. It's not __that__ dark; the light on her balcony is on, showing the snow that's falling and illuminating her living room in dim yellowish light. "She's tingly," Roxanne says, and Megamind nods.

"Yes, the studs carry a small electrical charge," he says. "What are the scissors for?"

"Not sure a Pekingese does that," Roxanne says, lips twitching. "Thanks. Ducky, I need to stand up. The scissors are just so I can cut the tags off—oh. You cut them off already, thank you. That was—"

She stops, squinting at the collar of her bathrobe.

"Megamind, did you cut the label out of this?"

"Yes of course," he says as she blinks at him. "I was careful. Is that not something most people do?"

"—No," she says, after a moment. "No, it isn't, but—thank you. Why did you—"

Megamind makes a face. "I thought, well, you said __certain fabrics__ and—they're itchy and terrible; of course I removed them. My uncle Guduza always rips the labels off of his jumpsuits. I do the same thing—jumpsuits are bad enough on their own; with scratchy-scrapey labels is," he shivers, "ugh, __so__ very much worse."

Roxanne is still just standing and staring at him. After a moment, Ducky butts against her hand; she gives it a few absent little rubs.

"Thanks," she finally says. And swallows, and shrugs into her new robe. It's very cozy. And she does feel better, but…somehow she thinks the robe is only part of that. "Megamind, am I going to make this weird if I tell you you're—a really good fake boyfriend? You didn't—you don't have to do the boyfriend thing until we're actually at my mom's; you know that, right?"

His mouth curls into a flattered little smile entirely against his will, traitorous thing. "I won't make it weird if you don't," he says, arching an eyebrow. "And Miss Ritchi, really, I am not doing anything because I'm your 'boyfriend,'" wiggling his fingers in the air. "I'm simply…" He shrugs. "Doing what seemed like the right thing to do? Doing what I would want?"

Roxanne bites her lip. "Well," she finally says, "thanks. And—and you're sure you still want to do this? Now you've seen how my mom and I get sometimes?" She pats Ducky again, rubs back and forth on its nubbly dome. "I'll understand if you want to call it off, I really will."

"I do still want to," Megamind confirms, still wearing his little smile. "Roxanne, I grew up in a prison. And I went to public shool. I have seen far worse shouting matches than that one, I promise you."

Roxanne smiles a little. "Good," she says. "I'm glad."

He raises his eyebrows at her. "Really?" he asks. "Glad to be bringing a supervillain home for Christmas?"

"Oh fuck yes," Roxanne says immediately. "You're building me a hovercraft, how can I be anything but glad about you?" she says, and Megamind laughs.

"I am excited for you to see it," he says. "I think you will like the design. I truly do. And! I did fit four beds!"

She raises her eyebrows at him and sits back down on the couch, backing into the corner of the sectional and patting the cushion next to her. Megamind's white smile flashes out at her when she places her arm along the back of the couch, and he flops down at her hip and reclines against her shoulder, his cranium mostly resting on the back of the sofa but sort of gently warm on her shoulder, as well.

"The key for the beds was to tuck two of them into a second level," he explains, grinning. "It's…oh, without giving too much away, it's a sort of, mmm, circular shape?"

(It's a shame she isn't allowed to touch his neck. The angle of his head has his throat pretty well exposed, like this. It's long and very slender, and—she could just—hm. She won't, of course, but—)

(Oh, she thinks, a moment later, oh, this is trust; he trusts her.)

"Now I don't want to explain too much, Miss Ritchi, because you have a habit of guessing my evil plots," he laughs, "and I want to surprise you! You said a surprise was okay; I want to surprise you! But! I am proud of the beds. There is a big one, and then two smaller ones below it. They are enclosed, so—so it feels less—crowded."

Roxanne shakes herself, summons a reply. Pushes the thought of maybe kissing his sharp shoulder to the back of her mind where it belongs. "Bunks," she says. "That's a good idea."

Megamind wiggles a little, then tugs her arm down off the back of the sofa and folds it around his thin chest. "Yes, very compact," he says, pleased. "A very good idea. Will we have room to land?" he asks suddenly, turning his head a little to look at her out of the corner of one eye. Roxanne blinks at him, at the way his pupil catches the light coming in from the balcony and reflects it back at her.

(She's seen his eyes flash like that in low light before, but never so close. Never from only a few inches away like this. He blinks and his eye flickers yellow-green and blue, hollow and otherworldly.)

"At your mother's," Megamind clarifies, after a moment. "Will there be a flattish place to land? The sa—the hovercraft can stay in flight if not, but—landing is better. Bozeman is in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains yes?"

"It's in the Gallatin Valley," Roxanne says. "Sort of between the Rockies and the Crazy Mountains. It's not super flat, but Mom's should have a bunch of places to land, yeah. How big is the hovercraft?"

Megamind grins. "It's a good size," he hedges. "Not—terribly big? Big enough. Fifty feet in diameter?"

Roxanne blinks. Fifty feet. Fifty feet is—she doesn't know. She needs some kind of frame of reference before she'll be able to visualize—

"So, it's a bit too wide to fit in your apartment," Megamind says. "The, the cockpit? The cockpit could fit. Easily fit! But, but the rest of it—the, um, the—carapace? The part that houses the flight and power mechanisms—it's too wide." He fidgets a little, picking at one of the seams on his gloves. He's taken to wearing spikeless gloves when he comes to visit Roxanne, rather than wearing spikes and then taking his gloves off.

Roxanne takes his hand without really thinking about it, threads her fingers with his gloved ones, rubs her thumb over the leather.

(Megamind goes still.)

"We should have room to land," Roxanne says. "It's a big property. It's not really in use, these days, but…" She sighs. "If all else fails, we can land in the paddock behind the barn; I don't think it's super overgrown yet. Ma was still boarding horses until just a couple years ago."

"Why did she stop?"

Roxanne frowns. "She just said it was getting hard for her. She is getting older, now. She's still really capable, I'm not worried or anything, but you know, like I said. She gets…anxious. She's weird about certain things."

Megamind blinks, his eye flickering again in Roxanne's peripheral vision. "Anything I need to know about?"

Roxanne is quiet for a moment, thinking, but…it isn't likely for Megamind to need to fold any laundry over Christmas, and he probably won't need to help in the kitchen, so…

"Don't light any candles, they're just decorative," she says slowly. "And so are the pretty soaps; just use the bar soap behind the sink to wash your hands. Um…and she has a particular seat on the sofa she likes; if she comes in and you're in her spot, just move. She'll tell you not to, but do it anyway. Wipe off the mirror after you take a shower." She sighs. "Little stuff, you know? I'll let you know if I think of any others. And she'll tell you."

"That's fine," Megamind says. "I don't—I just don't want to—do something wrong and not know it."

Roxanne snorts. "Oh, you'll know it. She will definitely tell you. Or Rose will." She sighs. "Rose was always better at remembering Mom's stuff than I was."

Megamind tugs his hand free, then curls it around Roxanne's fist as it closes on her thumb. He settles his other hand on the arm around his chest, patting it reassuringly.

"It's only two nights," he says. "We can do two nights."

She nods.

* * *

"Okay," Megamind says, leading her through Evil Lair with his hand in hers and his eyes sparkling at her as he glances back over his shoulder, "okay okay okay I think you're going to really enjoy this. I hope you will! I thought—maybe I should have checked with you, but—I thought it was funny."

There's a massive, cloth-covered shape in the middle of the Lair's highest battle-deck. The shape is blocky and irregular and the way the cloth moves tells Roxanne it's probably just scaffolding around the actual hovercraft, but the edges of the hovercraft—edges?—do poke the middle of the cloth out about halfway down. The whole thing is a lot bigger than she was expecting.

"I really think you'll like this," Megamind says, darting away to the huge sheet as brainbots bowg and gather overhead, ready to remove the scaffolding.

"We both had a lot of fun building it," Minion tells her as he pauses on his way past. "We don't often get a chance to really—to really have fun? This way?"

Roxanne sends him a questioning expression, but he just winks at her. "Enjoy your trip, Miss Ritchi," he says. "Don't be afraid to tell Sir to back off if you need to."

"Oh, I doubt that will be a problem," she says automatically.

"Good," Minion says.

"Minion!" Megamind shouts over, fists on his slim hips. "Ollo over there! Ven acá!"

"Anyway, have a nice time, Miss Ritchi," Minion says, and then he jogs forward to go help with the unveiling of the hovercraft, which Roxanne still can't quite believe is a thing Megamind actually built just because he could.

Megamind sweeps the sheet away, and—then snaps, "Oh crapdangit, hang on—"

Roxanne snorts. The hovercraft is invisible. Well, mostly invisible; she can see a circular platform resting a few inches off the floor, suspended on thin cables from what looks like a hole in the air. Megamind hops onto the platform and does something on his phone, and the platform begins to ascend with a hum and a whir.

It's rising pretty quickly, but suddenly Megamind leaps off and sprints back over to Roxanne. "Be right back," he says shortly, picking up her duffel and then dashing away again. The platform is now higher off the ground than Megamind is tall, but he just slings her duffel up and then grabs one of the cables in both fists and hauls himself up hand-over-hand until he can swing a leg onto the platform and get the rest of himself up. It's a surprising show of upper body strength, but doubly impressive because he's wearing a collared black shirt under his blue sweater; Roxanne isn't sure what it's made of, but she's never seen a button-down that afforded that kind of mobility before.

The gentle humming increases in volume until it reaches a dull roar like water in a kettle just before it reaches a boil, and then there's a __clunk__ as spotlights kick on in a circular area of the air, shining down at the floor of Evil Lair and making Minion wince.

__Circular?__ Roxanne thinks, as the last of the brainbots flits away with the last of the scaffolding. And then she thinks, __No. Surely not. No way did Megamind build a__—

But that's when the hovercraft shimmers into visibility and Roxanne bursts into amazed, delighted laughter, because—

It's a flying saucer. It's a classic flying saucer, sleek and simple, a disc with a flattish bubble in the middle, resting on three slender legs. The hatch in the bottom opens up and Megamind descends again, beaming at her. Roxanne has already run forward to look up at the bottom of the craft, still laughing.

"You—you made a __flying saucer__—Megamind __oh my god__, it's __perfect!__"

"You like it?" he says, looking just as delighted as she feels.

"I love it! It's incredible!" She stares up and around at it, shaking her head. "I can't believe you just—you __built a flying saucer__ just for this trip—"

"It was fun," he demurs, stepping off the platform and coming over to pat one of the legs of the craft and smile up at its carapace. "I've wanted to build one of these for a while, if you can believe it. But—"

"I want to believe," Roxanne blurts, and Megamind snorts.

"Quite," he says dryly. "But I've never had a reason to build one, is the thing," he continues. "I have the hoverbike, and it isn't like I go on many day trips out of the city. Shall we?" he adds, hopping up on the platform and extending a gloved hand to her.

"Sir, your coat," Minion says, handing him a black wool thing.

"Oh, right." He shrugs into it, then holds his arms out away from his sides. "What do you think?" he asks, spinning so Roxanne can see.

"Very nice," she tells him, stepping up onto the platform beside him. The coat fits him perfectly, as do the jeans and studded boots he's wearing. "Are you going to be too warm?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not wearing my leathers, just the polyethylfullerene undersuit," he says. "It's high-necked, which is different, but it—it works. I'm fairly astonished, Miss Ritchi. This really does feel okay."

She smiles. "I'm glad. You deserve to feel comfortable."

Megamind cocks his head at her for a moment, blinking, and then he sort of jumps and says, "Right! Yes! Time to go! Brainbots—!"

* * *

Roxanne takes to the hovercraft like a duck takes to water. Her first reaction once inside is, of course, "Wait, what do you mean, __I'm __going to fly this thing?" because Megamind has been excited about surprising her with that. But as soon as they're inside and strapped in and he shows her how to work the altitude adjustments, the various thrusters, the gravitational compensators, she says, "Oh, hey, this makes sense," sounding startled, "it's like Dance Dance Revolution, but with my hands!"

Megamind blinks. "Of…course it is," he says, wondering just __what __in the hell she's talking about. "Yes, it is a…Dance Revolution."

"Good," says Roxanne, sounding satisfied. "I __like__ DDR. What's that spherical hologram at the top?"

"Ah, that! Is a spatioproximital alert system. You see the little holographic hovercraft inside the sphere? That has appeared because you're within a hundred feet of an obstacle," he says. "It re-expresses your relationship to the surrounding landscape in a way that's easier to conceptualize."

"Oh, good!" Roxanne says, slowly lifting the saucer off the floor of the Lair and only wobbling a little bit while Minion waves orange signal lights below them. "This is going to be fun."

And it __is __fun. Once they get in the air above Metro City and pick up speed, it gets __incredibly __fun. The cockpit is in a sort of bubble on top of the craft, which allows almost three hundred and sixty degrees of visibility when the saucer is invisible. When visible, the saucer section does impede the pilot's line of sight to the ground, but landing cameras eliminate any problems this might otherwise cause.

And once they get out into the countryside and Roxanne doesn't need to worry about buildings—__ha! Okay! Yes!__ She could definitely get used to this. She takes the saucer down to half its radius above the ground, where the air is perfectly smooth, and just __slices__ over a brown, shaved-down cornfield.

"Miss Ritchi," Megamind purrs from where he's curled comfortably in the copilot's seat, doing no copiloting whatsoever because Roxanne is, apparently, a natural in the air, "I had no idea you were such a speed demon."

She grins over at him and lifts them skyward again. "I like to go fast," she admits. "I—my first car was a motorcycle. I was…less than careful with it? Don't mention that to my mom; I'm pretty sure she still doesn't know."

His eyebrows go up, his green eyes sparkle delightedly. "She doesn't __know?__"

"I hid it under a tarp in the chicken shed," Roxanne says, feeling her ears go a little bit warm. "The chickens were my job exclusively, so it was fine."

"She never heard it start __up?__" He wrinkles his nose, grinning, incredulous. Obviously fishing for details.

Roxanne snorts. "I built my chicken shed kind of far from the house or any of the other outbuildings," she says. If he wants all the details of how she planned her little deceit, he's going to have to try harder than this. "I only started planning this when I was, like…nine."

"Huh." Megamind settles back in his seat, studying her with a little smile on his lips. "Hidden depths, Miss Ritchi, I'm impressed. What kind of bike?"

She grins. "A Honda CB77 305."

Up go his eyebrows again. "A superhawk! Nice."

After a moment, she glances over at him. "You know, you're going to have to start calling me Roxanne if they're going to believe us about all this."

"What, I can't use a pet name?"

She rolls her eyes. "You __can__," she says. "But I just…look, just call me Roxanne, okay? We're about to go spend two days with my mom and my sister and my brother-in-law out in the middle of nowhere. Please just call me Roxanne."

"—All right," he says, slowly. "Roxanne."

She grins. "There, see? Was that so hard?"

Megamind swallows and frowns down at the landscape peeling away below them. No, it wasn't hard. And it should have been, shouldn't it? Two months ago the thought of calling her Roxanne to her face would have sent him scrambling for proverbial higher ground. He's already obsessed with her, already troublingly fixated on her. As he never acts on his obsession, he isn't worried, but…first name terms? On top of the cuddling and the holding-hands and the sharing-dinner?

And he all but volunteered for this, he remembers. This whole thing was—this whole thing was Minion's idea, granted, but as soon as Roxanne didn't scoff and dismiss it, he—just abandoned all pretense of resistance and—

And he thinks about her __all the time__, and the only reason he hasn't worn her penguin sweater every day since she gave it to him is because he wants it to smell like her for as long as possible, and he volunteered to be her pretend boyfriend in a situation that in any other case would have him absolutely frantic with nerves—but he isn't, because Roxanne is here and Roxanne is—Roxanne is a safe place and—

"Sandwiches!" he announces, too loudly, popping to his feet. "Do you want a sandwich? Minion made sandwiches."

"Oh!" She blinks. "Um, maybe? What kinds of sandwiches?"

"Honey and marshmallow fluff," he says, disappearing behind her. "And one of them has chocolate syrup but I'm not sure which one."

Roxanne bursts into startled laughter, glad she had the foresight to bring herself a thermos of chicken noodle soup. "Seriously? What is this, a Calvin and Hobbes comic?"

"I am unfamiliar with that culture reference," Megamind calls back to her from where he's picking through the backpack Minion sent along. "But I require lots of sugar. My cells run on similar processes to yours, but I have about three times as many mitochondrial equivalents, and—"

"And glucose is required for synthesis of adenosine triphosphate, yes," Roxanne finishes. "I passed high school biology."

Megamind's hand sort of slips, and he almost falls facefirst into the open backpack. "Ha!" he cries, delighted and trying not to be. "Yes! I knew you would get it. Do you want a sandwich, or no?"

"No, I brought my own lunch. And sorry, but that's basically all I remember about ATP," she calls back. "I'll be honest, I __passed __high school biology, but not exactly with flying colors."

Megamind comes carefully back to his copilot's chair with his wax-paper wrapped sandwiches in hand. "Miss—Roxanne. You're thirty-two and you remember __adenosine triphosphate__. I have interacted with enough humans to know that's impressive."

She glances over at him, smiling a little. "I'm not much, compared to you," she says, but Megamind makes a face.

"You are both organized and driven," he says. "And you have an excellent memory. That's enough, believe me! You qualify as brilliant in my book."

Roxanne feels her ears go hot again. "Oh," she says. "Thank you?"

"And I should know," Megamind concludes smugly, settling back into his chair, "seeing as I wrote the book on brilliance." He bites into his sandwich and turns to stare fixedly, happily, out the windshield.

(He really does feel—safe, currently. He shouldn't, probably, despite the gun on his leg and the five brainbots cooing to each other on the mews-rail running around the ceiling of the hovercraft, but here he is, and he feels okay. Nervous, but not unreasonably so. He can do this.)

"I'm so glad you're here," Roxanne says, unexpectedly, "thanks again for coming along on this trip," and Megamind glances swiftly over at her. She looks—happy? Content, at least. Piloting the hovercraft he built her, using her deft hands, glancing at the spatioproximital matrix when she needs to and adjusting accordingly, carving along the sides of cliff faces over the snow-sparkling plains below them, the rolling hills, the ice-laden cottonwood trees—the wings of the hovercraft rippling behind and to the sides of them in the cold winter sunlight—

—Roxanne dives them so close to some dense riverside bracken that she kicks up ice crystals from the sleeping plants in their wake, and—and they turn a neat barrel roll while Megamind relaxes in his copilot's chair with his hands on his sandwich and smiles up with the sky in his eyes and—

—this is nice.

"So," Roxanne says, after a brief period of companionable silence has passed. She sounds like she's smiling. "Talk to me! Tell me about the brainbots?" As if summoned, Ducky dives off her perch and zips forward to nuzzle the side of her braincase against Roxanne's shoulder. Roxanne laughs and takes a hand off the controls and skates her palm over the brainbot's nubbly dome, and Megamind feels warm. "I really do like these little guys. Ducky is such a love."

He clears his throat.

"Yes," he says, "she is, and, and here is a thing you might not know: only some of my brainbots are cyborgs. The ones that behave mostly like dogs, those are cyborgs. And so are the ones like birds, like Ducky and Jeremy, on this trip. But, um. Most of my older brainbots are pure AI. Golding, also on this trip, is pure AI."

Roxanne glances over at him, already smiling. "Really," she says. "I wouldn't have guessed that."

"It's true," he says. And then, because he is deep in the hidden soul of him a quiet cautious creature, he adds, "I hope this isn't going onto the news?"

He's rewarded with an appalled-looking grimace. "Absolutely not," Roxanne says. "Megamind, really! You're doing me a favor! I told you, I wouldn't sell you out like that."

He studies her for a moment, but detects no lie. No hidden motive. "Forgive me," he finally says, knowing it will get another startled glance. "I am, perhaps, over-careful."

"No," Roxanne, says, before he can continue, "no, you're—you're right to be careful. But in this case, I really am just wondering." Suddenly her voice changes, goes unexpectedly wistful. "Can't I just be curious about you? Just for me? I already know so much more about you than everyone else in Metro City, I know who you are, but…Megamind, I still know so few details." She grins quickly over at him. "I know you like my penguin sweater, and you don't like most regular styles of clothing without something else to protect your skin. And the sugar thing, now. But other than that…" She shrugs.

Megamind looks at her. "What," he says slowly, "would you like to know about the brainbots, specifically?"

She seems to think for a few moments. "Why make them cyborgs at all? I mean, if some are full AI…why not just stick with full AI? Or, or if you were always going to make them cyborgs, why bother with artificial intelligence?"

"Oh," he says. "Oh. That's. A good question." He cuddles down into his chair. "It…took me a long time to figure out how to integrate the capacity for heuristic learning and cognition with existing neural tissue, and I needed bots that could assess situations and extrapolate potential outcomes without prior experiences with those specific situations. I kept running into a sort of…theory of mind conundrum, I suppose? Anyway." He pauses for a moment, trying and failing to think of something else to say on that count. "But they have different strengths, I suppose. My first artificial intelligences were wholly unstructured. They were…sort of a mess."

After a moment, Roxanne says, "It sounds like you're saying you needed…limits? Parameters? And that's why you went with, um, with existing neural tissue? Am I getting that right?"

"Yes," he says. "Yes, that's correct. Pure AI was…__simpler__, but…it helps to have a prior existence to fall back on. A previously-existing pattern of behavior providing…well, __parameters __within which to operate, yes. Exclusively computational AI is more, um—not dangerous, but—unpredictable? I couldn't always tell what conclusion they were going to draw, if it would be the correct one, or even __a __correct one. Or even reasonable, at all."

He pauses, gazing into the middle distance, and then he grins. Here's a good story. "For example," he says, "Miss—oh. Roxanne. You enjoy Halloween, yes?"

"Megamind," she says, "you know I dress up every year; you __know__ I love Halloween."

He grins. "Then," he says, "you will enjoy this…oh, let's call it a story.

"Once upon a time," he says, and Roxanne snorts, "I asked one of my very earliest learning intelligences to generate a list of potential Halloween costumes. As a sort of test, you know? To see if I could identify any patterns in its learning. And, and some of the ideas it came up with were—well, Carl Sagan was one of the tamer ones but I'm still not sure where it pulled that from." Roxanne snorts; encouraged, Megamind says, "It also suggested 'sentient stone' and 'Frizzle the witch.'"

"Was it thinking of Magic School Bus on that second one?"

Megamind shrugs. "I'm unfamiliar with that culture reference, as well."

"Aw, that's a shame." Roxanne grins. "What was your favorite suggestion?"

"Ooooh," Megamind says, and she can already tell from his tone that this is going to be just awful, "my personal favorite…I think…yes. I think it is a tie between 'sweet potato burlesque' and 'skunk in a moose suit.'"

Roxanne bursts out laughing, quickly cuts herself off. The only reason Megamind doesn't do the same thing is because he knew what was coming and he got all his giggles out years ago, and he knows Roxanne has no such advantage. So he leans into the funny, clearing his throat. "Now, Roxanne, if you could please just, please take a moment to imagine what a sweet potato burlesque would even look like?" He glances over at her, grinning at the way she's so obviously biting both lips together, trying so desperately not to laugh. "So, you have me, yes? Imagine Yours Truly, if you will, dressed as a kind of lumpy orangish yam. Probably made out of chicken wire and paper-matchy for Maximum Lump-ness." Roxanne lets out a strangled noise. "And __I'm__ imagining this would probably be from the groin up," Megamind continues ruthlessly, "because let's be real, it isn't __nearly__ as funny if the potato ends at my waist. And I would be wearing fishnets, I suppose. Fishnets, maybe a garter belt to round it all out. __Definitely __stiletto heels. Definitely also platforms—I can walk in __anything__.

"But please do __also imagine__, Miss Ritchi, __trying to explain all this to Minion__." Roxanne loses the fight to contain her laughter, and Megamind wiggles in his seat a little, pleased with himself. "'Skunk in a moose suit' would be __so __much easier," he concludes. "Though it might also require some explaining, and possibly a label."

"Oh, right," Roxanne chokes out, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, "because '__sweet potato burlesque__' is so immediately recognizable!" She shakes her head, still sort of laughing. "What about sexy costumes? Were those part of the lists it was looking at to learn from?"

Megamind rolls his eyes. "Ah, yes, the 'sexy noun' costumes!" he groans. "Evil gods, __so very many__ sexy nouns. Sexy coin, sexy bunsen burner. Sexy titmouse. Butt-Monks. Sexy English tea party. I am not kidding, Roxanne, sexy English tea party was an actual suggestion."

"Butt-Monks?" she squeaks, dissolving into a fit of helpless giggles. "You—you cannot be—__Butt-Monks?__"

"I'm still trying to figure out what that would look like," Megamind admits. This is excellent! She's still laughing! "Although really, there's only so much funny you can pack into a Sexy Noun. There were other __characters __in alongside Frizzle the witch, too! There was…oh, let me see." He pauses for a moment while Roxanne struggles to compose herself. "Ah, yes, I think my favorite in that category must have been, excuse me, ahem…" He clears his throat and announces, "Ursula, Queen of the Fart Science!"

"__What?__" Roxanne says, dissolving all over again. "What—fart science, what does—what even is that?"

Megamind chuckles. "I have no idea. Possibly someone who studies beans? Or gut flora. The effects of beans on gut flora, perhaps. One of the other suggestions in that vein was 'a poker player in possession of an onion.' Absurdly specific and absurdly esoteric. But I think the __most__ specific offering was—and I quote—'a sarcastic, racist noble using progressively tinier body parts as a human shield.' End quote."

Roxanne cackles. Megamind is living for this.

"And then others, of course, were simply weird," he continues. "These are some of the most coherent examples! A lot of the suggestions were items like Meat Belt, or Pajamas Made of Wood And Spiders. And concepts! The __concepts!__ Putting turtles on decor. Commentary couldn't be heard over the squawking of clocks. List of leg parts." He pauses, then adds, "Setup 9 x 11 party trick."

At this point, Roxanne is __howling__. This is amazing—usually it takes Megamind all his cunning and wit to get her to laugh! Usually he has to think __so hard__ and time his humor __exactly right__, and she's __never__ laughed like this before.

"Sorry," she wheezes, finally trying to catch her breath, "it's just—it's __so absurd__—Megamind, how on __earth__ did you ever manage to pull that into a coherent artificial intelligence?"

"With difficulty," he says. "Difficulty and stubbornness and many many sleepless nights and pots of coffee. The brainbots really are some of my best work, you know."

"I know I always love interacting with them," she says. "I assume the wrench-fetching bots are your dog-based bots?"

"You assume correctly," he confirms. "The others, the birds, those are mostly pigeon-based."

She makes an interested noise. "Why pigeons?"

"Their trainability and pattern-recognition skills are off the charts," he says. " My pigeon brainbots take care of monitoring and maintaining the two fusion reactors I use to power Evil Lair; trainability is an absolute must. Also, I…feel badly for them." He frowns. "Pigeons die so frequently in the city, and they're domestic animals, like dogs. You humans domesticated them to help you in your lives—again like dogs—but then when technology outstripped them, you forgot they were depending on you. Collective you, of course," he adds quickly; "I don't blame you personally, but—they're sky puppies, really. And you abandoned them.

"So when the bots find a dying bird—or dog, or cat, or—well, anything, really, although I do tell them to stay away from rodents and bats—they bring it back to Evil Lair and…take care of it. Upload it into an existing chassis or build a new one for it."

"Aw, that's—that's really sweet of them," she says, startled and feeling a surprising rush of affection for him. Sky puppies? Pigeons and stray dogs and feral cats, granted new lives as semi-autonomous machines.

He nods. "Some run the reactors I use to power the Lair—and various other internal systems, of course—and others help me and Minion in construction. Most run security patrols throughout my territory."

Roxanne blinks. "Reactors?"

He's quiet for a long moment. Long enough that Roxanne looks over at him. He's studying her, his expression intently focused as he assesses her.

He must be satisfied with whatever he sees, because—

"I have two nuclear reactors powering the Lair, yes," he finally says. "One of which has an output several orders of magnitude higher than any other reactor currently in existence on this planet. I have what I need and I bleed the excess off into Metrocity's power grid."

The affection from before hasn't exactly faded, and now it warms into flattered fondness. He really __must__ trust her, she realizes, to tell her something like that. It contradicts his reputation, it offers her knowledge of an invention that would definitely be of interest to some very powerful humans if news of it ever reached them—

Megamind hasn't moved, she realizes. He's still watching her closely.

"You're very annoying," she says, glancing over at him and scowling. He recoils, blinking, looking faintly hurt. "Do you know how many people have been trying to figure out what's been causing those random power fluctuations? And now I know the answer, and I can't tell anyone."

His expression relaxes into a smile. "I'm sure that must be frustrating for you."

"Deeply irritating, yes." She smiles back, a silent promise not to betray his trust in her. God, he really is just—absolutely incredible. In all the time Roxanne has known him, Megamind has never done anything by halves, but this—agreeing to be her pretend boyfriend for the equivalent of a long weekend and then building her a flying saucer, offering her information about his life and his projects, coming to her home to visit and have dinner with her—he really is going above and beyond. And he honestly doesn't seem to expect or want anything in return.

It's nice. She doesn't have to worry that he's playing games with her, the way some of her other partners have done. What would he be like, she wonders, if he really was dating her? Would he be like this? Is he holding back, or playing himself up, or is this just…how he is?

The funny thing is, Roxanne is pretty sure this is just the way Megamind is. He's never really lied to her, that she knows of. His machines do what he says they do, his failsafes never fail to be safe. He's—oddly trustworthy, for a villain. What he says is what he means.

Hopefully this trip won't change too much about their routine when it's over. Or—maybe he'll still want to see her occasionally outside of a kidnapping? That would be nice. Roxanne really has been enjoying this.

Well, fingers crossed.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Rose is rinsing off the lunch dishes when a flash of light outside catches her eye and she looks up, out the kitchen window. There's—

"Salim," she says, her voice distant to her own ears, "Salim, would you come here, please?"

Her husband appears at her elbow a few seconds later. "Hmm?"

"What am I looking at?"

He blinks. Squints. Takes off his glasses and rubs the lenses on the hem of his shirt, then replaces them and squints again. "—I have no idea," he says. "Looks to me like a flying saucer."

"That's what I was thinking," Rose says, leaning on the sink and peering out at the thing. It's moving diagonally across the plain between the rolling, snow-covered hills, coming toward them.

The thing suddenly snaps forward and then straight up at a ninety degree angle, then spins on a tilted axis, throwing light dazzling off its disc like water.

"Have you ever heard of a UFO sighting up here?" Salim says, frowning, and—

__UFO__, thinks Rose, and, __aliens,__ and—

And then she thinks of how vague her sister has been all these months about the mysterious Micah, and—

Oh.

Oh, son of a bitch. Of __course__. Because __of course __Roxanne would be secretly dating her serial kidnapper, and __of course__ they would show up for the holidays in a goddamn flying saucer.

Rosemary Ritchi leans on the kitchen sink, wheezing with startled laughter. This Christmas is going to __rock__.

* * *

"Hey, you!" she cries, crunching across the snow to fling her arms around her much shorter older sister. "I was going to ask how your flight was, but the answer is obviously __amazing! __I desperately need a ride in this thing, will you give me a ride in this thing? Please say yes! Say you will!"

Roxanne pats Rose's back through her coat. "Fine, thanks, and you?" she laughs.

"And! YOU!" Rosemary cheers, stepping onto the platform to shake Megamind's hand and clap him on the shoulder. "Annie, you should have __said!__ Goodness, no wonder you were so vague." She looks down at Megamind, who appears to be frozen. "Wait, so is your name actually Micah Mind?"

He blinks and untangles himself from her grasp. "It is not," he says. "My name is Megamind. But she had to tell you __something__."

He hangs their duffels over his shoulders, the straps crossing over his chest, and steps down into the snow. The wind here blows straight through his wool coat and his sweater. Holy crap, Roxanne wasn't kidding when she said it would be colder.

"Here," Roxanne says, reaching for the red duffel, "I can get mine."

"But I'm balanced this way," Megamind says, holding himself and the duffel bags stiffly away from her and decidedly not shivering. "And I am very strong, you know this. It isn't heavy."

"If you insist," Roxanne sighs. She's well-acquainted with the combination of Megamind's stubborn face and this particular tone of protest; she's seen Minion try (and fail) to deflect it a million times.

"Besides," Megamind says, his tone going teasing, one eyebrow arching, "can't a man do something nice for his girlfriend?" He hip-checks her gently with his duffel on his way past.

Roxanne rolls her eyes up at her sister. "You hear him? He builds me a flying saucer and calls carrying my bag for me 'nice.'"

"__Any__wayyy," Rose says as a few brainbots carrying wrapped gifts zip out into the cold air and the gangplank retracts into the airship, "holy granola, welcome to big sky country! We have been," she says, looking Megamind up and down, "__so__ excited to meet you! I know we all," shooting a wide-eyed __Look __at Roxanne, "have a __ton __of questions, but—let's get you two inside and situated first."

Megamind frowns up at her. "Big sky," he repeats.

"Because the air is so clear and the ground is so flat you can basically see into tomorrow," Rose explains, gesturing around at the scenery. She laughs a little. "I mean, not __here__-here, obviously, they have hills __here__. But out on the plain a ways."

"That is not how relativity works," Megamind says, "and the sky is more or less the same consistent size regardless of where you stand on Earth's surface, not counting mountains. But okay."

"Oh I can __absolutely__ see why she likes you," Rose says.

"Shall we?" Roxanne asks, gesturing toward the house.

"Oh gosh __yes__, this is going to be __hilarious__," Rose says as she sets off to lead the way back towards the little brick house. "Also! You will be pleased to know, Mom finally updated the guest rooms and got rid of our old bunk beds."

"Oh!" Roxanne exclaims, catching Megamind's elbow as he stumbles a little. "Oh, good! Um. Took her long enough, it's only been, what…twelve years?"

__Crap__, she thinks, shooting Megamind an apologetic grimace. __Crap, crap. Well. We'll just…cross that bridge when we come to it__. "Rose," she adds, before her sister can reply or ask why Megamind looks like he just sat on a tack, "did you bring any of your little friends up to Mom's with you?"

Her sister peers at her curiously as they crunch up the walk to the house. "Yeah, a couple," she says. "Haven't released them yet since we're in such a cold snap; they're staying in the garage for right now. Why?"

"No reason," Roxanne says lightly, kicking the bottom step to get the snow off her boots and signaling for Megamind to do the same. Her mother's porch and the stairs are immaculately shoveled, as always. "Just curious."

"Uh-huh," Rose replies. She heads up the steps to the porch first, opening the door to let the guests in and calling, "Hey Mom! They're here! And, uh—there's a—surprise? Oh, just drop those on the sofa for now," she adds in an undertone to Megamind, nodding at the duffel bags. "Greetings first, then Roxanne can show you her old room. __Mom!__ Where the heck—"

Salim comes bounding down the stairs and hurries over to give Roxanne a hug. "Wow, you guys made really good time!" he exclaims. "Sorry I couldn't come out with Rose, I was putting Echo in our room for now."

Roxanne's face lights up. "You brought Echo with you?" She turns and looks back at Megamind. "Are you okay with dogs? Are the bots—I assume the bots are okay with dogs?"

Startled, he nods. "I—yes, I'm—yes, dogs are fantastic."

Salim cocks his head at Megamind. "She really must like you," he says, "if she's dated you for six months and not thought to ask if you like dogs."

"I mean, I assumed," Roxanne says, rolling her eyes before Megamind can reply. "Half the brainbots act like dogs anyway; it never really came up. Megamind, this is Salim, my brother-in-law. Salim, Megamind. Obviously."

"Pleasure," Salim says, and shakes his hand. "I'm going to need the story behind that flying saucer. Also—Rose, the thing from Roswell that we keep forgetting to put on the car, you mind if I see if they want it?"

Rosemary's eyes go big. "That's __perfect__, yes, do it."

Salim hands Megamind a bumper sticker, grinning. Megamind blinks at it, then sighs and shakes his head, trying not to laugh and failing. It just says __I WANT TO BELIEVE__ in block text, with a stylized stereotypical alien head next to the words.

"What, what is it?" Roxanne asks. Megamind hands it to her. "Oh, yes, we definitely need to put this on the saucer."

…So far, this is all going…much more smoothly than Megamind was expecting it to. There hasn't been any screaming yet, or shouting, or—

"Hallooo," sings an older woman with short white hair as she comes through a door immediately to his right, making him jump and skip left. "Roxannie, you made it! And—oh!"

She catches sight of Megamind and pulls up short, blinking, eyes wide.

He smiles tightly, but he feels it pull into more of a grimace. "Surprise?"

Roxanne darts forward and pulls her mother into a hug. "Hi Mom!" she exclaims. "Yeah, we made it. We just landed, actually; Megamind built me a hovercraft—saucer—thing. Megamind, sweetheart, this is my mom."

"Surprise indeed," Dorothy says, and swallows, and—then she arranges her face into a smile that's just a little bit too bright, and says, "Well, it is just so good to __finally __meet you! And—what's—?" The brainbots have returned from arranging their gifts under the tree in the family room. Pattern recognition, indeed; they didn't even need to be told. "Oh, of course, I know these," Dorothy exclaims, blinking at them, "these are those—those brainy-robots Roxanne is always talking about. Hello," she continues, lifting a tentative but unafraid hand to 87534, the bot who singled her out and drifted up to her. It bowgs and allows her to rub her fingers up and down along its eyestalk, shuttering its lid at her a little in pleasure.

"—Brainbots, yes," Megamind says, trying to sound as confident as he usually does and mostly succeeding. "Ducky, Rain Just Singing, Golding—and that one is 87534—and Jeremy. It's good to meet you, too."

"87534?" Dorothy asks, just as Salim says, "__Jeremy?__"

Megamind swallows. "They mostly pick their own names," he says. "Some seem to prefer not to. Others accept names assigned by other bots or by me or Minion. Roxanne named a few of them," he adds, completely truthfully. He doesn't mention that two of the brainbots in question identify themselves as That's My Shoe and You Butthead Give That Back.

"Let's get our stuff upstairs," Roxanne says, retrieving her duffel from the couch before Megamind can make a grab for it. "We'll be back down soon. Okay?"

"Oh of course!" Dorothy says, still wearing her frozen, too-bright smile. "Of course, you go get settled in. And then we can all—ah—catch up."

* * *

Roxanne grimaces over her shoulder at Megamind as they climb the stairs. "Sorry," she says in an undertone. "We're going to have to talk about…you know. 'Us.'"

"That is to be expected," he agrees, only a little awkwardly. "I—wasn't anticipating they would—take this so well?"

"Mmm," Roxanne says, in a tone that tells him there's more to this than meets the eye. That's hardly reassuring.

She leads him down a narrow hallway and through a door, and Megamind finds himself in a smallish room with a single window, a medium-sized bed, a bureau with a tall mirror on it, and some shelves in one corner, choked with books.

Roxanne stands with her back to the far wall and hefts her duffel onto the bed. "Close the door," she says quietly. Then, when Megamind turns back around, she quietly says, "They __aren't__ taking this well. If they were, they would have hugged you. But they aren't going to yell at you about it; that would be rude." She unzips her duffel, moves her clothes into two of the empty bureau drawers. "What they're going to do, I __think__, is try to separate us."

He frowns. "Romantically?"

"Physically," Roxanne says. "And then gently influence me to break up with you. So, yes, also romantically."

Megamind's frown deepens, becomes more irritated than confused. "Miss Ritchi," he says, "I want to be absolutely clear. Your family pesters you to the point of lying to them out of desperation because you aren't dating anyone," his lip curls, "and now they're going to harass you because you __are__ dating someone, but it happens to be someone they dislike?"

Roxanne shrugs. "This is what happens," she says. "I make a decision, Mom doesn't like it, and she picks at me until I either change my decision or shout at her. I do something, Mom thinks she could do it better, and she picks at me until I either change the way I'm doing it or shout at her." She wads up her empty duffel and shoves it in a third drawer before straightening and smiles ruefully at Megamind. "It's exhausting, but I'm used to it. Mostly." Then she blinks.

Megamind's lips are very thin and his eyebrows are the lowest she's ever seen them. He looks completely pissed. "That," he says, "is about as absurd as a skunk in a moose suit. They don't—I mean, yes, obviously, this is __me __we're talking about, but—"

"But they don't know you," Roxanne agrees. "Yeah. I know."

"I'm __evil__," Megamind says scornfully, "they don't have to __know me__ to see __that__. But this is __your life!__ If you want to date an evil supervillain, why do they get any say in that?"

Roxanne looks at him for a moment, trying to work through that. He seems upset, but also—almost distracted? Is she reading that correctly? "I mean…if you were controlling or abusive," she tries, "I would hope they at least would say something."

His lip curls. "There is a __difference__ between __evil__ and __abusive__," he snaps. "It—I—look, can we please put something over that?"

Roxanne blinks and turns to look in the direction of his glare. "The mirror?"

"It's distracting," he complains, still glaring at the mirror. "It's—I don't like it."

Mystified, Roxanne shrugs. "Sure," she says, going over to the closet and pulling down one of the spare sheets, throwing it over the mirror on top of the bureau. "Better?"

"Infinitely," he says. "Thank you. Now. Yes, if they suspected me of abusing you, or, or controlling you—yes, obviously, then they should speak up, but—so far all they know is that I'm evil!"

"So we double down," Roxanne says firmly. "We be more physical with each other, we use…pet names, I suppose."

"Agreed," Megamind says, nodding. "Yes on the extra cuddling and the verbal affirmations. And we double down __double-extra__ when we aren't in the same room." He shucks off his sweater and drops it on the bed; otherwise he's going to overheat too quickly with the cuddles. "Let's do this."

Roxanne comes around the bed and takes his hand, squeezes. "Let's do this," she agrees.

* * *

Five minutes later he's curled up tightly against Roxanne's side, her arm tucked around his shoulders.

"So!" Dorothy exclaims, beaming at the two of them from her preferred spot on the sofa. "My goodness, fill me in, __please__. However did the two of you—well, not __find__ each other, but—?"

"I realized Roxanne was special the sixth time I kidnapped her and she asked what kind of coating I used for the Invisible Car," Megamind says immediately. "I didn't realize __how __special, then, but…she remains the only human I've ever spoken to who correctly identified the unique challenges the Invisible Car presented."

"And we talk, you know?" Roxanne says. "We chat sometimes before the cameras start rolling and Megamind signals Metro Man to come in. It's fun!" She grins at him. "I used to try and see how much I could get him to tell me without him realizing I was doing it."

"You ask questions like I play chess," Megamind complains fondly, twinkling his eyes at her. "And—oh, that's another thing!" he exclaims, turning quickly back to Dorothy. "Her interviews! Roxanne is far and away the best thing to have happened to KCMP News in the past twenty years." He leans back and cuddles himself into her side, his eyes sparkling, his mouth curled into a smile. "She conducts interviews like it's a game of strategy; it's brilliant. She asks questions that give her viewers a clear understanding of the issues at hand, and she phrases them so her opponents give up the truth even if they never actually say it outright…she's __incredible__." He shakes his head and leans far enough away to turn his sparkling gaze at Roxanne for a moment. "Really, I should want nothing to do with her," he adds, still grinning. "She has the potential to be extremely troublesome for me."

Roxanne squeezes him. "Oh, come on," she protests, "I wouldn't do that to you. Even if I didn't love you, even back when we weren't dating, I never went that far."

"No, you didn't," he agrees, a softer note entering his voice. "No, you've…you've never gone after me that way. I am grateful to you for that, truly."

Dorothy clears her throat, still blinking in amazement. "And…all the deathtraps? The doomsday devices? Roxanne, you've only ever complained about those."

Megamind's gut sort of twists at that, but Roxanne just turns and frowns at her mother like she's confused. "What? No, I haven't."

"You do, you say they're boring and predictable," Dorothy insists.

"Yes, when they actually are those things," Roxanne says, still frowning, and Megamind feels himself relax. "Some of his plans are better than others, that's just a fact. They can't all be seismomechanical earthquake generators."

Megamind cocks his head. "You liked the earthquake generators?"

"I did," she agrees. "I thought they were very impressive. That was a super fun scheme to get a front-row seat to, right up until the point where the ground started shaking and…well, anyway."

Megamind grimaces at the memory. What happened was—

He's honestly still not one hundred percent sure what happened, there. The ground jerked and he stumbled and then—suddenly he was—outside staring up at the sky, which had gone all weird and rippling orange with boiling clouds, and the wind was—but there was no wind inside the Lair—Minion was screaming and Megamind was going to die and everything was screaming panic panic PANIC—

Without anyone manning the controls for the seismographier, the tectonic nodes eventually powered themselves down. The ground settled, the Lair stopped shaking, and Megamind came back to find himself crouched on his knees and elbows on the ground with Roxanne curled up on her side underneath him, and Minion huddling down over both of them. Megamind was shaking harder than he can ever remember shaking in his life before and Minion was keening a pitch only the two of them can hear, and Roxanne was saying a litany of "__It's okay, you're okay, Megamind, Minion, hey, you're okay, it's going to be okay, nobody's hurt, you're okay you're okay you're okay—"__

Deeply, deeply embarrassing. Even __more__ embarrassing was the fact that Metro Man showed up five seconds after Megamind's vision resolved into the Lair's floor and the top of Roxanne's head. He made a big show of destroying the seismographier and, __whoops__, also the broadcasting cameras—none of which were pointed at Megamind, thank goodness—and then he just kind of pulled Roxanne out from under the pile of supervillains and took her home. And he didn't come back. Just straight-up ignored the part where he was supposed to drag Megamind off to prison.

__Most__ embarrassing is the fact that Megamind is still absurdly glad about that.

"The ground started shaking and then what?" Dorothy asks, and Megamind goes stiff.

But Roxanne just says, "Oh, everything went sort of sideways. That happens, sometimes. But Megamind protected me," she adds, sending him a smile and patting one of his shins with the hand that isn't around his shoulders. "He got me safe and under cover. He always has three or four contingencies in place just in case."

"Three or four?" he repeats scornfully, fidgeting with the ankle cuff of his undersuit, which is poking out from under the hem of his jeans. "Three or four. Try seven or eight, usually." __Depending on the doomsday device in question, once as many as sixteen__, he doesn't add, because that sounds like overkill even to him. Roxanne just laughs and agrees, and keeps talking to her mother while Megamind sort of zones out for a minute, looking around the living room.

Everything seems to be in shades of white or cream or tan. There's a tall tree in the corner, garlanded in white and ornamented in gold, white lights twinkling quietly. The enormous sectional sofa is tan suede, and—he puts a black-gloved hand flat on it, pats all the fiber down flat as far away as he can reach without leaning. Then he places his hand down and rubs just a little back against the grain to leave a long-fingered handprint there.

He glares down at it for a moment, the rectangular palm and the spindly fingers. He already knows all his physical proportions are far from normal—absurdly wide shoulders above his far-too-narrow ribcage, and even then, his shoulders are small. His legs are too long and too skinny, and his arms are too short for his height, and his eyes are too big and his face moves too much and—

He's too dark and too blue and—this room, all its decorations in gold and white, that's—not a combination that sets him particularly at ease—

He only realizes he's huddled harder against Roxanne when she tightens her arm around him and rubs up and down his shin, gentle and reassuring. He wasn't expecting that. Usually he handles himself regardless of how discomforted he is; reassurance is not really a thing that happens to him.

"Heads up!" someone yells from somewhere else in the house, and there's a thump, and then the bumping of many feet scrambling down the stairs.

"Echo!" Roxanne calls, her face lighting up.

The animal that comes bounding into the living room, wiggling its whole body, is a gray-and-black patchwork of hair approximately the size of a small bear. It comes wiggling directly over to Megamind, who—

Roxanne has just enough time to wonder how this is going to go down before Megamind hisses "__Puppy__—" and a split second later he's down off the sofa and sinking both his long, beautiful hands into the animal's thick ruff of hair, and Echo is wagging and wagging and wagging and living for the scritches. Megamind's whole face is lit up in a way Roxanne has never seen despite the completely undignified way he's being slobbered on by an animal almost certainly twice his volume.

"Such a terrifying creature," he croons, on his knees on the floor, "an evil evil beast, what a good good dog, an awful evil terrible __terribly good dog__, yes you are yes you are. Echo? Your name is Echo? Such a pretty Echo what a good Echo __good dog__, good dog. Yes! Oof—" He's knocked onto his butt, laughing, and Echo goes down sideways and rolls onto her back, mouth open in an upside-down dog-laugh, requesting tummy rubs. Which Megamind seems only too delighted to deliver.

Salim comes in and blinks at the sight of the alien crouched next to his huge dog, then laughs. "I see she's making friends already," he says, and Megamind looks up at him, emerald eyes dancing.

"She is __fantastic!__" he declares. "How old is she? __What__ is she?"

"Three years," Salim says, dropping himself into the rocking chair in the corner. "She's a mix. Half Newfoundland, and we __think__ the other half is mostly border collie but we aren't sure what the rest is. Possibly something else hard-mouthed; she doesn't drool half as much as your typical Newfie."

"I love her," Megamind announces. "She's my new favorite; Roxanne, you have been replaced by a dog."

God, he's good at acting. Roxanne snorts and leans forward, rubs a hand over the top of his head. "That's okay, she's my favorite, too," she says, laughing. "So it looks like we're both each other's second choice."

Megamind scoots back a little and leans carefully against Roxanne's legs, glancing back at her to make sure this is okay, and he gets another reassuring head-pat. He's—honestly not sure where to go with that? It's not unpleasant; quite the opposite, it's just—okay, yes, Roxanne agreed to be physically affectionate with him, but his head? She's okay touching his __head__, that's…

"So you're a dog lover," Dorothy observes, and Megamind glances over at her. Echo is still on her back on the floor, tongue flopping out of her mouth, her lips flopped up over her snout, grinning.

"I like animals in general," he admits, grinning back. "But I…do have a particular soft spot for dogs, yes. Alas, Evil Lair is not what I would call 'pet-friendly.' Even if it was, my lifestyle is…not conducive to responsible pet ownership." Echo sneezes hugely and rolls upright, shakes her huge head so her ears flap. Megamind grins and runs his fingers through her ruff again. "But it's okay," he continues, aware that his lifestyle might not sound conducive to a romantic relationship, either. "I have my brainbots! My mechanical darlings. They're all the pets I need, even if they do mostly look after themselves."

"They truly are works of engineering and artistic genius," Roxanne says, behind him, and Megamind tips his head against her knee instead of crowing all the ways she's correct. Here and now is neither the place nor the time to stroke his own ego. This trip is not about him.

(Also, his ego is already receiving way more stroking than he's used to, just from Roxanne. It's…a little bit overwhelming, if he's being honest with himself.)

(Art! She thinks they're art!)

"Hm," Dorothy says, but that's all for the time being.

Megamind pulls his knees up to his chest again and pats the enormous dog lying panting nearby, Roxanne's palm resting warmly on top of his head. With Echo's black-and-gray patchwork coat, if Megamind works into her undercoat with his fingers, he can't even see how wrong they are.

__This is easy__, he thinks. He's honestly a little bit surprised how easy it is so far. But—well, then again, why shouldn't it be easy? Talk up Roxanne's brilliance, explain all the ways that he likes her? Psh, __that's __not hard. She is brilliant, and Megamind does like her; there's a reason he chose her as his exclusive kidnappee.

And it's…nice. To say these things. He's thought them enough times, even if he hasn't really been in a place where he felt comfortable saying them. The situation never called for it! It would have been weird to say, mid-kidnapping, __oh by the way your interview skills are some of the greatest I've ever seen, well done__. But now he can say them, to Roxanne or in front of her, and it isn't weird at all! It furthers an end __she desires__. Megamind can think of no greater time to say these things than this.

It's also nice to hear Roxanne saying nice things about him, too, even if it does hurt to remember they're just to convince her family that he's her boyfriend. Megamind praises himself at every available opportunity because somebody has to; but hearing a human actually recognize his brilliance? And not just any human, but the one who __probably__ has more cause to hate and scorn him than anyone else? It makes him feel tingly and warm all the way down to his toes.

Unthinking, he nods his head back and forth against the side of Roxanne's knee. He doesn't even realize he's doing it until she starts brushing her thumb over his skin. Doesn't even really realize it then, not until he hears himself give a contented little hum, and then he freezes. Which of course Roxanne feels him do, because she quietly says, "You okay?"

Megamind hesitates, then—aha. Aha! He knows how to make this normal again. Return to boyfriend-land instead of startled-freak-land.

He leans away a little and presses a brief kiss to the side of her knee. Then he glances up over his shoulder at her through his eyelashes, and says, "I lied. You're still my favorite." And sends her a small smile.

(It isn't even hard.)

And Roxanne blinks, then smiles at him (him!) like she's startled and flattered, and she says, "Aw. Yeah, you're my favorite, too." And then she leans down and kisses the top of his forehead.

__Wow, okay__, Megamind thinks as he turns back around and rests his head on her knee again, __upping the ante much?__

But he can't complain. And even if he could…he doesn't want to.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Evening finds the family gathered in the living room again after dinner, chatting and sipping wine, with Roxanne and Rosemary seated on either side of the coffee table so Rose can paint her sister's nails. This is more of a production than Megamind was expecting.

"Don't spill," Dorothy says, for probably the fourth time. "Do you want a piece of newspaper?"

"If it will make you feel better," Rose says easily, not looking up from where she's applying a glossy topcoat. "I'm almost done. Megamind, could you pass me the clear bottle with the dropper lid?"

He blinks and leans forward to hand her the little bottle, unsure why she left it on his end of the coffee table to begin with.

"Thanks," she says. "Don't suppose you want me to do yours, too? I almost never paint mine anymore but I was really good at it for a while, there."

Megamind blinks. "I'll…pass," he says carefully. "For now. I wear gloves, anyway. So."

Rose shrugs. "Fair enough."

"Are you going to do yours next?" Roxanne asks. "Can we show Megamind the little guys in the garage first?"

Rose cocks her head. "Sure," she says. "Yeah, if he's interested. Why, does he like—"

"Aaa!" Roxanne exclaims. "No! It's a surprise."

"All righty." Rosemary laughs a little, shakes her head. "Okay, drying time! You should have said something before I did all this; you won't be able to hold them."

Roxanne shakes her head. "That's okay. He'll want to, though, I'm sure." She sends Megamind a grin. He peers at her, suspicious.

"Why?" he asks. "What's in the garage?"

"It's a surprise," the two women chorus.

Dorothy sighs. "Salim," she says, her eyes still on the nail polish, "I was so glad you could make it, this year."

"Yeah, no wedding the day before Christmas really makes a difference," he laughs. "I still can't believe that."

"Wedding," Megamind says, inquiring.

Salim glances over at him. "I'm a hair stylist," he says. "Barber, hairdresser, all that good stuff. Last year, I got booked for a wedding on Christmas Eve. I don't exactly have skin in the game, as it were, but Rose does. I would have liked to come up to visit with her."

Megamind raises his eyebrows. "Ah," he says, "That's…nice? Well done? Sorry, I don't…I don't really do…hair. Much."

"I bet," Salim says, grinning. Dorothy laughs. "Dorothy, top you off?" he adds, rising. "I need an eggnog refill."

She looks up, surprised, but thanks him and offers him her glass. "So," she says, as Salim disappears. "Megamind. Tell me a little about—what you do?"

He blinks. "Which part of what I do?" he says carefully.

"Oh, any of it! Why choose, um, supervillainy?"

"It isn't really like I had much of a choice, there," he says with a shrug. "I was raised in a prison for the criminally gifted. Went to public school after I got myself kicked out of the __extremely__ misnamed Little Gifted Shool." Less __went to__ and more __suffered through__, but he isn't about to say that. "My grades were excellent, of course, but my…extensive disciplinary record rather discouraged any scholarships that would have allowed me into higher education. But by that point I was fairly anti-establishment, anyway, so…" He trails off, shrugs. "It was villainy or the mob. And the mob is boring, frankly. Very few opportunities to do much with quantum engineering in the mob."

Dorothy makes an interested noise. "Extensive disciplinary record? Oh, thank you, Salim. Did you—"

"—Put the bottle back in the fridge, yes."

"I was not exactly a model student," Megamind says flatly. "I mean, look at me."

Rosemary snorts. "Yeah, I bet," she says. "Public school? __You?__ I bet you were a tiny hellion."

"Yes, I was certainly a troublemaker," Megamind confirms, completely misunderstanding her. "My second-grade teacher said she wasn't sure what I was sent to punish her for, but she certainly was sorry. I can't blame her; I was extremely destructive. For no other reason than that I wanted to be, in the beginning." He frowns. "Later, too, I suppose. It's what I was best at. It's always been my biggest strength."

"No other reason," Rosemary echoes, sitting up straight and looking at him. "Wait, what do you mean, no other reason? Are you serious?" She looks at her sister, who can only bite her lip and shrug. "Annie, is he serious?"

He blinks at her, cocks an eyebrow. "Ollo, supervillain," he says. "Being bad is sort of what I do."

Salim waves his hands at him. "Wait, wait, wait," he says. "Hold the phone. You're a supergenius and they sent you to public school. Were you __not__ bored absolutely to tears?"

Megamind frowns. "I was bored," he allows. "But I'm not sure I see your point."

"You were a __kid__," Salim says. "You were bored! and frustrated!"

"Yes," Megamind says, confused. "So?"

"So are you sure you were destructive __just __because you wanted to be?"

Now deeply weirded out, Megamind snaps, "Look, I don't know what you're implying but I'm not sure I like it—"

"I'm not surprised you were difficult," Rosemary says. "I would have been downright violent."

Megamind shakes his head hard. "You—you __cannot possibly__ be saying my behavior was acceptable."

"Not acceptable," Roxanne finally speaks up. "But understandable, at least."

"Foreseeable, for sure," Rose agrees.

Megamind stares at them until Roxanne says, "Megamind, for heaven's sake, they expected you to sit still and…basically do nothing for seven hours." She swallows. "Any child would have lashed out."

"I did have fun with it," he protests, sort of dimly aware of the way his stomach is twisting into a knot, "it isn't as though I __didn't__ want to," but Roxanne shakes her head again.

"Answer me one question," she says. "Just—answer me this, please, love. Would you have been __half __as 'destructive' if you had been allowed to sit and read in the library all day? Or tinker in the shop lab?"

"No, of course not," he says without thinking about it, and then he blinks, startled, as Roxanne makes a speechless sort of __there you go__ gesture with both hands.

"Like I said," Salim says. "It sounds to me like you were bored out of your mind and dealing with that the only way you could think of."

Megamind stares at him. "This—no, but I—"

"__You__ __were not a bad kid__," Roxanne says sharply. "You were just a kid. An incredibly bored, incredibly brilliant kid with no outlet for any of your intellectual energy."

Megamind swallows. "Okay that is certainly something to think about," he says in a rush, feeling absurdly dizzy considering he hasn't even stood up, yet. "That's—something to consider, yes."

"Aaand we're done!" Rosemary announces brightly. "Megamind, are you sure you don't want any? You're going to have to take your gloves off for the garage surprise, anyway."

"What?" He shakes his head a little, thrown by the abrupt change of subject. "Um—sort of? I—could try it?"

"Excellent," Rose says. "And don't worry, I can take it off if you hate it. What color?"

"Black," he says immediately.

"Excellent," she says again. "Okay, go ahead and take your gloves off, and we'll do that when we come back inside! Come on."

She and Roxanne both push themselves to their feet, stretching. Uncertain and feeling deeply rattled, outside his comfort zone, Megamind stands and starts working his gloves off his hands.

(they—he just—no, he's always been this way, hasn't he? hasn't he?)

(__You aren't trying; if you were trying, you'd succeed.__)

("I'll try not to casually dismiss your efforts, then," Roxanne said, and—oh—and there's a reason that—there's a reason he picked that as the thing that bothers him—)

(turn away, look away, don't think about this, don't touch this, it's not a safe thing to think about)

(New thing. Focus on a new thing. Find something new and focus on that.)

These are shorter gloves than his usual, only wrist-length. But the sleeves of his undersuit are much longer than he usually wears, so his shirt isn't touching his skin. The ends of his cuffs are cut just a little short, so they don't extend past the ends of the sleeves of his undersuit and scrape his skin when his gloves are off. Minion is a textile genius.

Breathing deeply, he tucks his gloves into the pocket of his jeans. Not the whole glove; his jeans fit too well for that. Just the ends. It feels sort of silly, having them flop around, but it's better than crushing the thin leather.

"Okay," he says again. "Now, what is in this garage?"

* * *

Generally speaking, Megamind is not a fan of sentences that begin with __close your eyes and hold out your hands__. Particularly not with school so close to the front of his thoughts, even if he is resolutely not looking at it. Still, Roxanne seems to genuinely think he'll like whatever it is she has to show him, and Roxanne has never been the type to find bait-and-switches funny.

So he closes his eyes and extends his bare hands, feeling—nervous—

There's a rustling in front of him, and a sort of fluttery sound, and then Rosemary's voice says, "Cup your hands…okay, and hold gently here…" She adjusts his grip as a warm, slight weight settles into his palms.

Startled, Megamind opens his eyes and blinks down at the thing she's just handed him, and—

"Oh," he exclaims softly. "Ollo there." The pigeon in his hands regards him with a sort of placid interest.

"I thought maybe you'd like to say hello to some healthy birds, for a change," Roxanne says, smiling at him. To Rose, she adds, "Megamind rescues pigeons, sort of."

"Oh, nice!" Rosemary smiles. "That's excellent! So, that's Cirrus, she's one of my friendly ladies. I got her from someone who breeds white doves, but you can see she's pretty gray on her head and neck. She likes her neck scratched—yeah, just use your thumbs, that's perfect."

Delighted, Megamind rubs his thumbs gently through the soft gray feathers on Cirrus's neck. She blinks her orange eyes, closes them a little. "Why bring them along?" he asks. Two other carriers are stacked along the wall.

"My birds are homers," she explains, crouching to take the other two out of their carriers. "Long trips like this one are really exciting for them. They don't often get to fly so far." She laughs a little, chagrined. "Unfortunately, I wasn't expecting it to be __quite__ this cold. So they're a little bored and upset with me at the moment."

Megamind strokes his thumbs gently over the bird's folded wings. "She's so soft," he says. "And light."

Rosemary cocks her head at him as she lets her birds flutter up onto her shoulders. Megamind isn't looking at her, but he catches the gesture in his peripheral vision.

"Rescue is maybe not the best word for what I do," he admits. "Ah…'preemptive necromancy' might be more accurate?"

"Brainbots," Roxanne says, in response to Rose's startled silence. "They're cyborgs. Most of them."

"Ah," says Rose. "Huh. That's. Ethical?"

Cirrus shifts a little, fluttering her wings and clucking. Megamind clucks back without really thinking about it. "No," he says, scratching carefully behind her head, "no, little squablette, you can't go outside; you'll freeze."

"hrooo" says Cirrus.

"hrooo" Megamind replies, matching tone and timbre exactly, and then he laughs—a little too soon; his syrinx is still engaged and his laugh has high, fluting notes warbling above it. He clears his throat, embarrassed. "Any neural tissue in the brainbots comes from an animal that was already dying," he says, before Rose or Roxanne can comment on it. "Dogs, pigeons. I'm not too terribly worried about the ethics of it; they aren't in any pain and they seem happy."

"That's good," Rosemary says. The other two pigeons take off to fly around the garage. "That's…going to take me a little while to get my head around, sorry. I don't really know how to react to that."

"Quite all right," Megamind says. "Most of what I do is ethically questionable when viewed from certain angles." He grins down at the pigeon in his hands, coos at her again, and laughs when she coos back. "She's lovely," he says honestly. "Thank you. For, for letting me hold her."

"Oh, of course," Rose says. "Thanks for helping me give them some people time. Do you guys mind hanging out a little longer? I want to clean out their bedding. You can let her sit on your hand, if you want; just keep an eye on her if she—yep, there she goes."

Megamind sits down on the garage steps next to Roxanne and watches as the pigeons fly around the garage. Cirrus eventually returns to land on Rose's shoulder, cooing and bobbing her head.

"No food this time," Rose says. "No, no food right now. Just nice clean straw. Okay, and in we go. Stratus," she whistles and holds up her hands. "Stratus, Bob, come on."

Roxanne blinks. "Cirrus, Stratus, and Bob?"

"He came with the name," Rose says as the birds come in to land on her hands and go back into their carriers. "He was already responding to it; I didn't want to re-train him to a new one." She grins at Megamind. "So, wait," she says. "Was that the first time you actually held a pigeon?"

Unsure of whether he's about to get teased, or if she's going to say something else about the brainbots, he just nods.

"I thought you did very well," she says, patting him on the shoulder. "Now let's go do your nails!"

* * *

Megamind blinks down at his hands and flexes his fingers as Rose caps the little bottle of drying drops. His nails look nice, but they feel…weird. Heavy. He's aware of them in a way he usually isn't.

"I'm not sure if I like this," he says slowly.

Rose shrugs. "Well, like I said, no worries. It comes off really easily with this and a paper towel." She wiggles a bottle of green liquid at him. "You wear it well, though. Your hands are seriously gorgeous."

Megamind looks up sharply, but she doesn't look like she's making fun of him.

"Why not just leave it on tonight," Roxanne says, "and you can take it off tomorrow if you still aren't sure about it?"

He nods.

Roxanne studies him for a moment. He's staring down at his fingers like he isn't entirely sure what to do with them, and he's carrying his eyebrows in the low, flat line that Roxanne knows means he isn't happy.

She places a hand on the back of his shoulder, opening her mouth to ask if he's okay, but Megamind gasps and flinches forward as soon as she touches him. Then he rubs his fingertips into his eye, leaning toward her, into her hand, laughing a little bit under his breath.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm—I'm just—tired. I'm tired. I think—I would like to go to sleep."

"Yeah, me too," Roxanne says, patting him. "I think we're going to turn in early."

"It's awfully early," Dorothy says. "Are you sure?"

Roxanne nods and stands up, offering her hands to pull Megamind to his feet. He looks up at her for a second before reaching for them, and it's—an angle from which she's never looked at him, before. Seated on the floor, gazing up at her. He really does look desperately exhausted. But then he sighs, and drops his gaze, and takes her hands; and when she looks at him again he looks more or less like he always does, if a little more serious than usual.

"All right, well," says Dorothy, "let me know if you need anything. Sleep well!"

* * *

Neither of them says anything while they get ready for bed. Roxanne is pretty sure neither of them knows how to bring up the elephant in the room, and they're both just trying to ignore it. But eventually they're standing on either side of the bed, staring down at it and not at each other.

Then Megamind puts his hand on the pillow closest to him, and Roxanne blurts, "Okay—"

He blinks at her, and she steels herself.

"Okay," she says again, resolute, finally looking up at Megamind from across the bed. "Are you okay with sharing? I am, if you are."

His mouth falls open for a split second before he snaps it shut again, his expression going vaguely suspicious as he slowly says, "...I assumed I would sleep on the floor."

It's Roxanne's turn to have her jaw drop. "The __floor?__" she repeats, appalled. "Megamind, don't be ridiculous! It's a full, not a twin!"

"I don't know what those words mean."

She swallows. "It's—it's a two-person bed. So we can share. Really, I don't mind."

He keeps staring at her, his eyebrows slowly pulling into an increasingly severe frown. "Miss Ritchi," he finally says, "you are a good person." He stops.

"...Thanks?" Roxanne says. "I try?"

He shakes his head. "You are a good person," he says again, firmly, "and—and I am evil. Obviously, visibly evil. You cannot possibly be comfortable with this."

She stares at him, uncomprehending. He isn't even wearing his supervillain uniform. "You—what? 'Obviously, visibly?'"

He recoils slightly. "Look at me." He gestures at his face and then his chest and then down before spreading his hands and dropping them to his sides.

This makes no sense. Roxanne shakes her head. "Okay? You look fine."

Megamind's recoil is much more pronounced, this time, and he presses his lips together uncertainly, his eyes scanning her face. Is he…? Yes, he's suspicious, she realizes when he steps back with one foot to angle himself at her, moving like he's starting to turn away. "You don't—you still don't look like you usually do when you're making fun of me," he says, shaking his head and sort of squinting at her. "I don't—"

Roxanne stares at him. He honestly looks caught off guard. A thought occurs that makes her stomach clench. "Megamind—is this—is this seriously just—because you're blue?"

And now, because she's looking for it, she sees the way his shoulders go just a little bit stiff, sees the way his lips thin as his head comes up. "Not __just__ because of that," he says tightly. "Not—that's just—the second-most-obvious external indicator." He rolls his eyes meaningfully upward.

"Oh," she says, genuinely thrown and hoping he can't tell how stunned, how abjectly horrified she is about that whole idea. What, just—just because of what he looks like? Just because of how he looks? What is—that's the biggest, steamingest pile of bullshit she's ever—

"Most humans are on entirely on board with this concept, Miss Ritchi," he says flatly, glaring down at the bed. "Most humans have __been__ on board with this since I was a child, as I believe we discussed earlier. I really am not sure where we're having a disconnect."

"We've been together for half a year," she reminds him. "I would be more than comfortable with you by now. The floor, that's—I can't let you do that. And how will it look if you ask to sleep on the sofa?"

"I know," he says sharply. "I know. It's just—"

"And I've known you for nearly nine years," she says, more quietly. "And truly, honestly, I am comfortable with this. Are you?"

He looks almost angry. "Yes, I am __comfortable__," he grits out. "This isn't—I am not upset about that. I don't __mind__. But it's—not __acceptable__, Miss Ritchi." He taps his fingertips on the bedspread for emphasis, widens his eyes at her. "In no way is anything about this scenario acceptable. You and me. In a bed. You're my kidnappee, I'm a supervillain; you're human, I'm not; you're a good person, I'm not. This doesn't __work__."

Roxanne swallows. And she thinks—__Mom wouldn't believe me if I said this__—

"Megamind," she says, meeting his gaze and holding it, "I need you to please trust me to know my own mind about this, okay?" His eyebrows go down in suspicion, but he nods. Slowly, but he does nod. Roxanne swallows again and climbs into her side of the bed, slides her legs down between the sheets.

(cotton sheets, thank god, she and her mother used to have such fights about the poly blends her mother favors)

She puts her hand out. Palm up. Fingers out. Reaching for him.

"Come to bed," she says.

And Megamind's whole expression sort of twists with pained skepticism, but—Roxanne doesn't lower her hand, doesn't look away. If she's learned one thing over the past few weeks, it's that Megamind may be a supervillain but he is far from as evil as he claims to be, if he can possibly be __evil__ at all. She's heard him refer to himself that way before, but never in her wildest dreams has she ever thought he meant it as __I'm a supervillain because I'm evil__ instead of the other way around.

He's her friend. At the very least, he is her friend, and he's here pretending to be her fake fucking boyfriend, and he's going to sleep on the __floor__ out of some stupid sense of—propriety or—self-hatred and—no. Just no. The bed has room for two; this is ridiculous; her heart is squeezing in her chest and all she wants is—

She doesn't lower her hand. "Megamind," she says again, "come to bed with me."

He wilts a little, still gazing at her face, and—

He turns and sits down on his side of the bed. Grips the mattress on either side of his hips for a moment.

Roxanne wiggles further under the covers and rolls over, her blood and her mind in a weird tangle of confusion and sympathy and indignant pain. He can't seriously think he's evil just because he's blue, can he?

(__Not just because of that, he said__, she amends privately. __He's shaped differently, too.__)

(__Okay but that is just as stupid a reason!__ she tells herself savagely. __And Megamind is many things, but stupid is not one of them!__)

(__The things we learn as children follow us the rest of our lives__, her mind whispers. __Start there.__)

(__But what the hell taught him he's evil because of how he looks? Seriously, what—__)

She thinks—she thinks of a million things all at the same time—Megamind on his giant screens the few times he didn't kidnap her for a scheme, the way people blinked up at his face and then recoiled at the sight of him—Megamind standing with his hands cuffed, waiting for Metro Man to finish with the press and then take him to prison, the way the press and the police as the citizens behind their cordon stared and sneered at him—Megamind laughing up from behind bars on the front page of the newspaper, the way her coworkers wrinkled their noses or sighed and shook their heads or rolled their eyes—Megamind—

(__Because he's a supervillain!__ she screams at her brain. __Because they're afraid, because of the massive property damage and apparent threats and__—)

—Megamind this evening, confused and upset at the implication that being a difficult child might not mean he's inherently a problem—

But when did it start? When—Roxanne, the man is blue and he couldn't wear human clothes until, like, __a week ago__; he has been stared at all his life. Roxanne, he is so much more tense about socializing than you are; you learned to hide and he never did; he has been stared at and shouted at __all his life__.

Oh, she thinks, startled, blinking into the dark in sudden understanding. Oh—it's not the way he looks that tells him he's something evil, something obviously visibly bad, something to be naturally reviled; it's not the way he looks—

—it's the way everyone __looks__ __at him__.

(__The things we learn as children follow us the rest of our lives__, her mind whispers again.)

Megamind turns off the light and the mattress dips under his weight as he slides himself slowly down under the covers, down between the sheets with Roxanne.

"It really is okay," Roxanne murmurs into the dark as she rolls back over again and peers at his shadowy profile. She can almost feel his tension from where she's lying. "I promise, it is."

"—I don't see how," he whispers back, after a pause.

And all Roxanne can say to that is, "That's a shame." She swallows. "Megamind…you have always been a gentleman towards me. I trust you." She smiles tentatively into the dark; his night vision is better than hers, and she knows it. "I'm even fully conscious, this time!"

He makes a small noise, a sharp exhale, but he doesn't say anything.

Roxanne clears her throat. "So," she says carefully, after a few seconds, "what do you think, so far?"

He pauses. "About…the plan?" he turns his head to look at her. "I think they're buying it. You were right, a little cuddling goes a long way."

"And you're sure you're okay with that?" she asks. "I don't want to—to accidentally push you too far."

There's another brief pause from Megamind's direction. "If," he finally says, sounding almost absurdly hesitant compared to the way he usually forges ahead, "if I tell you—I don't want you to think I'm—listen, I—I don't think the cuddling is going to ever be too much," he says, his voice low and almost embarrassed. "I don't think—I don't think it can be? I—it isn't—"

"You really do like it, then," Roxanne says, relieved.

"I do. I—really, really do. I didn't—I didn't ever realize—" He gulps. "Anyway. You do not need to worry about that, no."

She exhales. "Good. Thank you."

"You…don't really need to worry at all, you know," he says slowly. "It's. It's just me. I can handle myself."

"I know," she says. "I know you can. But I don't want you to have to. I want…" She trails off, then tries a different explanation, one that isn't __I want to worry about you, I want to look after you__. "If I was your girlfriend, I would worry about pushing you. Or—actually—after six months I wouldn't be worried as much." He makes an inquisitive sort of noise. "I would know, by that point…I would know you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable. I would trust you to let me know."

He's quiet for a moment. Then he says, "I thought, if I was your boyfriend, I wouldn't want to burden you."

Roxanne smiles into the dark. "That's the thing," she tells him. "It's not a burden. Not to me. Not if it's you."

"Ah," he says.

(His whole brain has just sort of hiccupped. Ancient Greek is not his forte, but—__οὐκ ἔμοιγε σοῦ__, that's—Euripides, __Orestes__, Pylades—that's—did Roxanne just—)

(__not to me__, he thinks, __not if it's you__, and the hollowed-out space in his chest does a warm sort of twitchy thing)

"But there is a balance to it, I guess," Roxanne muses, oblivious to Megamind's startlement. "You're right, sometimes we make sacrifices for people we care about, to make them happy. But…we balance that against letting them make us happy, because making us happy, caring for us…that makes them happy, too." She pauses. "Does any of that make sense?" It sort of sounded like she was going in circles at the end, there.

"You would be upset with me," he says slowly, "for…not letting you take care of me."

"Yes," she says. "Yes. Exactly."

"And I would feel the same way. I would want to—care for you. If, if I was your boyfriend."

"I mean, I hope so," and he can tell she's smiling.

"No, I would," he assures her, because he's still sort of hung up on __Orestes__, and he isn't really thinking about how incredibly certain he sounded just then, and—he already does, though, sort of. Want to care for her. He—cares __about__ her, or he wouldn't be here, now, with her, undertaking this venture.

(If it can be called caring. He still isn't sure about that, but he hopes that's what it is. The alternative is just creepy.)

And it would be nice to care __for __her, too, he thinks. To—to be there, when she wants him. If she needs him. And to be able to know she would be there for him, too, that would be—

That would be a thing he isn't thinking about any more, is what that would be.

"Did you," he says, before he can go any further down that maddening rabbit hole, "did you—were you quoting __Orestes__, just then?"

He feels her go still.

"You noticed that," she says, and Megamind's eyes go wide in the dark. He can see her face pretty well even in the low light—his night vision has always been excellent, much better than a human's—and she looks completely stunned. "I—wow. I wasn't expecting you to pick up on that."

"I'm familiar with the classics," he says. "Some of them, anyway. I—there's a lot to be familiar with."

Roxanne gives an odd sort of laugh. "I mean…yes. There is. Um. I can—I'm a little bit more than familiar with them?" she says. "I've read them, um. Kind of a lot. The originals, and then the translations—there are—__so__ many translations, and some are in verse and some are in prose, so there's a __ton__ of variety on some of the phrasing; it can be so hard to tell what's closest to the original Greek. And then most recently, I read Anne Carson's __An Oresteia__, which is…mostly pretty good; it's a __highly__-modernized compilation of Agamemnon, Elektra, and Orestes, all of which are by three different authors, and—anyway. You probably already know; you recognized that line; I assume you've read it. I do like having all three together like that, I think the work is well-crafted, but I'm not sure Carson's translations are—anyway. Um. Sorry."

"Why sorry?" he asks, bewildered. "And what's wrong with her translation?"

"It, um, it—misses a lot? Of nuance? And, and of course the consistently-elevated high diction you find in a lot of translations is going to sound heavy and cumbersome after a while, but Carson's work has the opposite problem; it feels—really diminished? The emphasis on simple vernacular is interesting but sometimes it comes at the expense of the soul of the originals, I think. I do like __some__ lines; there's elegance in simplicity, too, and I __love__ that line between Orestes and Pylades, but…" She swallows. "Megamind, I am going to get very boring if I talk about this for much longer," she warns, and he frowns at that. "I just…I was __fascinated__ with the whole Atreus thing back when I was younger—you know, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra and Helen and Orestes, Electra, Menelaus, Cassandra—__so__ many others—I got in with the Iliad and the Odyssey, of course, and then I read the Aeniad and noticed some parallels there, and so I wanted to know more about those, and then I started digging on smaller characters from Homer—well, I __say __smaller, ha—Menelaus and Agamemnon, really. It all just…I sort of fell in love, you know?" She laughs a little. "It was nice in college; I had a friend who was super into arthuriana and she and I would go back and forth sometimes and just…it was nice. I always like looking back into it, refamiliarizing myself, it—it feels like coming home, a little bit. Sorry, I'm. Being boring."

"My dear Miss Ritchi, if you were boring me, I would tell you," he says dryly, because that's twice now she's called herself that and he will not stand for it.

She pauses. "Okay, but would you?" she finally says, blinking owlishly at him from where she's lying on her side, and it—hits him, suddenly, he's—he is in bed with Roxanne. Talking with her. Just talking. And he's—

Warm and safe and—

Not thinking about that, either.

"It's just—most people don't say anything. I'm. I don't talk about this, much? I—it gets old, you know, watching people's eyes glaze over and realizing, __whoops!__ I've been talking about this for way too long! apparently! and now I've bored another friend away."

"Their loss for not making their needs known sooner," he says flatly, and sees her smile in the dark, crinkling the corners of her eyes. And he smiles back, knowing she can't see and finding shelter in the knowledge. "Yes, I would say something. Much the same way as you tactfully manage to alert me when my monologue goes on for too long."

She laughs at that, startled. "I would not call what I do tactful."

"What, you mean your Stop Monologuing, Megamind, This Isn't A Lecture Hall speech isn't tactful?" He laughs, too, low in the back of his throat. "Be that as it may, it is useful for me, and I know you aren't doing it to be cruel.

"Can I—your hair on the pillow," he adds, and yes, he is aware that this is a bewildering change in subject, but if he doesn't ask __right now__ he's going to lose all his nerve, "can I—touch? My gloves are off, and I—"

As it is, he can feel himself blushing like he's about to catch on fire, and he's very glad Roxanne's vision is so poor. It's just…in for a penny, in for a pound, right? If he's going to sleep in the same bed with her, he might as well just go all out on the impropriety and ask for the moon.

And she doesn't look revolted! She doesn't look upset __at all__, just surprised!

"Sure," she says. "Yeah, go ahead. I like having my hair fluffed." She yawns. "And then we should go to sleep. No, not like __that__, aagh—" She grabs his wrist. "That __tickles__, don't do that! Like this."

He had been petting the strands that are lying on the pillow, flipped away over the top of her head, but Roxanne—Roxanne takes his bare wrist in her bare hand and—puts his fingertips against her temple and slides them back until his palm is pressed to the side of her head, then combs outward. Repeats this a few times.

"Like that," she says, releasing him.

"—Ah," says Megamind, very glad that he's lying down so his legs can't go out from under him. He's! Touching Roxanne's hair! Because he __asked!__ And she said __yes!__ He's running his hand through her hair, he's—and it really is soft; it's as soft as he hoped it would be; the brown strands move like silk through his fingers.

…okay so maybe this whole bed-sharing thing does have some perks.

"That's nice," Roxanne sighs, her eyes sliding closed. "I had…something I was going to ask you…mm. I'll remember tomorrow if it was important." She yawns again, gives a little hum. Smiles a little.

He's running his hand through her hair while she falls asleep smiling. This is. The absolute best thing in the world. Megamind can die happy. She really does trust him, she—Heaven knows why; none of this can possibly be okay from an objective standpoint, but—

Well, but who's going to know? Here in the dark, in the warm gentle space they've made between them just by lying still and talking in low voices, just the two of them? Who's going to know, if he touches her hair? If he smiles back? If he closes his eyes and feels almost okay when he finally drops his hand and rolls onto his back? Who's going to know?

__Sleep, child, the darkness crawls over you,__ he thinks, remembering the old lullaby, one of the few songs he brought with him through the endless empty night; __sleep, child, and dream; your parents love you__—__but who will cry for you? only the scallops, the parrotfish__.

* * *

"This," Dorothy says, "absolutely __cannot__ be happening." She sips her wine, frowns at her other daughter. "She cannot possibly be doing this."

"Mmm," Rosemary replies. "I'm…still sort of inclined to agree. I mean," she adds, "they're adorable together. I don't know if I've ever seen Annie this cuddly. And Megamind does seem very sweet. But…"

"He __kidnaps__ her," Dorothy says. "He drugs her and he kidnaps her and I __know__ she always says she's fine but—well, really, would she know? If he was using her in their relationship, too? Would she even notice?"

"I doubt she's as naive as you think," Rose begins, but Dorothy shakes her head.

"Oh, she is," she says flatly. "She sees—the good in everything, the good in people, and that's wonderful, but—the world isn't all good! She's going to get __hurt__, one of these days, and—"

"She's gotten hurt __already__," Rose sighs from her seat on the floor behind the coffee table. She has a solitaire game laid out there and she's kind of absently shuffling through the spares. "Ma, she's a grown lady. She can take care of herself, she—her whole job sort of revolves around being able to leverage good and bad and everything in between in interviews with people—which she does in real time! On her feet!—to get to the bottom of whatever today's topic is!"

Dorothy just shakes her head again.

Salim finally speaks up from where he's quietly brushing Echo. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he says, pulling a clump of dog hair off the brush, "but Roxanne is thirty-two. She has a phenomenally successful career in Metro City and she lives by herself in a beautiful apartment in midtown; she's well-dressed, well-groomed, happy, smiling…she doesn't seem like she's in need of any kind of intervention, from where I'm sitting."

"He's a __supervillain__," Dorothy says.

"With whom she's worked closely for several years," Salim agrees, not smiling. "This isn't like they just met. They only started dating this past summer, but she's known him for a while."

"But," says Dorothy, but Salim isn't finished.

"And isn't she still friends with her gay hero ex-boyfriend?" he says. "That guy she bearded for for like six years or whatever it was? Megamind's arch-nemesis? She still refers to him as her friend; I sort of think they would have fallen out about all this if he had a problem with it."

Dorothy pauses. "That's true," she says slowly. "I suppose I could call him…"

"Or," Salim says, and he's starting to get an edge in his voice, "and just hear me out on this, you could trust her. You could leave her alone about who she dates."

(Under the coffee table, Rosemary gives him two solid thumbs up.)

Dorothy just sighs. "Salim, I know how I must sound to you," she says. "I know. I do. But you didn't watch her grow up! You didn't __see __her! She just lives off in her own little world. And she has her ways, but…Salim, good lord, she still has to write down phone scripts before she makes a call. She told me, once."

He shrugs. "So do I. Writing that stuff down helps me organize my thoughts. But you're right," he adds. "I didn't watch her grow up. Maybe that's why I'm apparently the only one here who actually sees how capable of an adult she is." He cleans out the dog brush again, drops the last clump of hair into the grocery bag by his leg, and then he turns and eases onto the sofa. Rosemary crawls up beside him, abandoning her game. It was going nowhere anyway.

"She landed __Megamind__, Mom," she says quietly. "And you heard what he said. He called her brilliant and incredible and the best thing to have happened to KCMP News in the past twenty years. That's coming from someone who…I mean, yes, he's a little weird, but he is legitimately __the smartest person on this planet__ in terms of raw intellectual capacity. And he's calling her brilliant."

Dorothy presses her lips together, frowns a little, sighs a little. "Everybody's against me," she says.

"I'm worried, too," Rose says. "I am. But…at least she's dating someone, right? That's what we wanted, right?"

Dorothy frowns disappointedly at her wine. "I just want her to have what I had, all those years with your stepfather. It's all I ever wanted for you, too."

"And I found it," Rose agrees sharply. "I found a husband who loves me for who I am. Without compromising who I am. It sounds like Annie is finding that, too."

"But she wouldn't __know__," Dorothy says, despairing. "If he was taking advantage, it would never even occur to her. She sees the good in everyone, even when there's nothing to see!"

"She also sees the bad," Rose points out. "She does __also see the bad__. People usually have both, is the thing, you know? And yes, Roxanne sees both but Mom—"

"A supervillain! A __supervillain?__ He's __not good,__ Rose."

"—she's allowed to decide the bad outweighs the good in people!"

"He __drugs her__," Dorothy insists.

Rose huffs a sigh. "So maybe they have a perfectly functional, appropriately-negotiated BDSM relationship that includes altered states! So what? She doesn't seem to be complaining." Then, when Dorothy just gapes at her, she adds, "She always said he isn't going to hurt her, remember? She __always__ said she isn't in any danger? Remember?"

"Should we maybe have this conversation while Roxanne is around to participate," Salim suggests.

Dorothy rolls her eyes. "She'll just insist she's fine and nothing is wrong, like she always does. And she'll get all weird and upset when I ask."

Salim frowns. "Right, okay," he says. "But—and again, just hear me out, I realize this sounds insane—maybe __she is really fine?__ And maybe she's upset at constantly hearing she's wrong about things she knows are true? That's not weird."

"Mom, it has been...years, now," Rose says. "And you know she's always seen things a little differently. She really does seem fine."

Dorothy sighs at her. "You said you agreed with me, when we started talking; you're worried too; you __know__ she doesn't know what she's doing."

"I—what?" Rose says, blindsided and bewildered and not even bothering to hide it. "Mom, I—do agree on some of it, I'm not saying you're __wrong__, I—no, I'm not sure this is a good idea, and, and I am __worried__, but…Annie's a smart cookie! She—I __do__ think she knows what she's doing. And for heaven's sake, we don't __know__ him!" She shakes her head. "I've tried to do some digging on him, you know, over the years, but…"

"I just really don't think we should be having this conversation without Roxanne," Salim says again, quietly.

"Salim, if you aren't happy, you can leave," Dorothy says. Her tone isn't unfriendly, isn't unkind, but—

Rose stands. "Yeah," she says. "No, you're right, I think it's time for bed."

Dorothy blinks up at her, startled. "Oh, but—Rose, you don't have to—"

"I'm tired," Rose says. "Goodnight, Ma, we'll see you in the morning."

"I'm going to take Echo out one last time," Salim says, getting up and stretching. "See you upstairs. Night, Dorothy."

* * *

Upstairs, he says, "You aren't tired."

"I am __now__," Rose mutters, glaring down at her book. She was sitting up against the headboard, reading, when he came in after settling Echo in her bed by the sofa downstairs. "I'm just—I'm just tired of this whole—stupid—thing." She shakes her head. "Just because I'm worried doesn't mean I think she doesn't know what she's doing; I don't know __where__ Mom got __that__ from."

Salim shrugs, tugging his shirt off. "Your mother needs the world to agree with her before she knows she's right," he says, stepping into his pajama bottoms and climbing into bed. "You told me this years ago."

Rose sighs. "I know," she says. "I know. It's just. I can't win! If I say what I think the way I __want__ to say it, it's a fight. If I say what I think the way that __won't__ cause a fight, half the time she hears something I don't mean!" Salim nods, rubs her shoulders. "And thanks for putting your foot down about Annie not being there," she adds quietly.

"I know you can't," he says with a little shrug. "If it comes from you, it doesn't go so well."

"If it comes from me, I'm criticizing her," Rose mutters, rolling her eyes. "If you say it, it's just because __you__ don't __understaaand__, __you__ didn't watch her grow __uuup__." She sighs again. "Blergh. Sorry. I don't mean to unload on you."

Salim elbows his pillow a couple times to get it into his preferred shape. "It's okay. Family stuff, I get it. You know I do. Why are you worried?" he adds. "About Roxanne with Megamind? They seem happy."

Rose considers this. "I just…I want to know he'll put her first," she finally says. "If she needs him to. I want…I want her to be able to lean on him if she needs to, I want him to be able to lean on her, I…I want to know he __loves__ her."

Salim rolls over and turns off his light. "Yeah," he says. "I think that's reasonable. To want to know. But hey, they'll get there."

"I hope so," Rose mutters.

* * *

Roxanne is sleeping somewhat restlessly, the way she always does the first night in a strange bed, which is why she's instantly awake when all of a sudden Megamind gasps and sits bolt upright.

"You okay?" she asks, rolling over, blinking up at him.

"—Need a cup of water," he mutters, swinging his legs out of bed.

He leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

Roxanne falls back asleep while she's waiting for him to return. He took his pillow with him when he left.


	7. Chapter 7

you ever have that thing where you realize, "oh, THIS is why I'm feeling like this!" and suddenly you understand a whole bunch of stuff about yourself that you've never really thought about before? if not, it's __deeply jarring__, let me tell you. useful! but also very weird.

* * *

CHAPTER 7

When Rosemary comes downstairs at ten of six in the morning on Christmas Eve to let Echo out, she clicks on the lamp in her mother's living room and then pauses.

Echo's bed is a good one: five-inch-thick memory foam wrapped in durable canvas, embroidered with her name, and big enough for her to stretch out on her side. But she isn't really a dog who stretches out, yet; that will probably come later, when her joints start to pain her. For now, she usually sleeps curled up, her chin on her paws.

But this morning, she isn't in her bed. Rosemary blinks, then looks around in the dim lamplight.

Megamind is stretched out in the reclining end of the sofa, his head thrown back over his pillow. His mouth is open, his jaw lax in sleep, and one arm is up over his head.

His other arm is thrown over Echo, who has laid herself down full-length on top of him, both paws on his shoulders and her nose resting by the side of his throat.

"Echo," Rose whispers. Echo opens her eyes and lifts her head and looks at her with a slight jingling of tags.

Then she shifts and struggles up onto her elbows and licks Megamind's face, which twists. He sits up a little, raising the recliner into its seated position. "Okay," he mutters, sitting up without opening his eyes. "Okay, Echo, you need to go out? Do you need to go out? C'mon, let's go out." He yawns a whistling sort of yawn—Rose blinks at that—and he stands up as the ninety-pound pile of warm fur wiggles down off him.

Then he opens his eyes and squints up at Rosemary, who's standing sort of frozen in the hallway.

"Oh," Megamind mumbles, blinking like he isn't really awake yet, his green eyes flashing greener still as his pupils reflect the light from the hallway. "Oh, you're up." He lifts a hand to the bridge of his nose, rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Was I yelling?"

"—No," Rosemary says quietly, bending a little to scratch her girl behind the ears. "No, I'm just an early riser; Echo's used to going out pretty much at the crack of dawn."

"Ah," Megamind says, and yawns again. "She's a good dog," he says with a bleary little smile. "I hope I haven't messed up her pattern, I was…sleeping wasn't…the whole earthquake thing yesterday. Wasn't a story I wanted to think about." He sniffs a little, scratches his stomach. "This time of year is bad for me," he mumbles, tipping his head from side to side until his neck cracks. "Echo helped."

Rose swallows. "She's good at helping," she murmurs, crouching all the way down now to run her hands over her dog. Echo shakes, ears and lips and flapping and tags jingling. "She always lies on me when I start feeling gross."

Megamind sends her a fraction of a smile, then seems to rouse himself a little. Just a little. "Well, I'm going back to bed," he mumbles, turning for the stairs with his pillow under his arm.

"Don't want Annie to worry," Rose says after him, and—Megamind pauses, one hand on the banister, one foot on the stairs.

"I truly have no idea why she would," he says softly.

Shaking his huge head, he disappears up the stairs.

Rose stares after him for a long few seconds before she straightens to take Echo out into the cold. And when she's outside, in her boots and her long coat over her pajamas, listening to Echo bound around in the snow of the yard and staring up at the freezing stars, she thinks—

__Well, but why don't you?__

* * *

"Oh hey, you're back, yay," Roxanne mumbles when Megamind crawls back into the warm bed. "Where'd you go?"

"Just downstairs," he says quietly. "I wasn't going to be sleeping well."

"Aw," she says, yawning. "But you're okay now?"

Megamind is quiet for a long moment before he says, "Yes. Somewhat."

"Good," she says. "Being sleepy isn't any fun." She sighs and rolls over and drops off again almost immediately. Megamind arranges himself on his back with his hands folded over his stomach and his feather pillow folded up under the curve of his skull, and closes his eyes, and does not think about Roxanne Ritchi softly sighing and falling asleep in bed beside him. Does not think about the way she said __you're a gentleman, I trust you__ and most especially does not think of her eyes gazing up at him, her hand stretched out to him, her voice saying __come to bed, Megamind__.

He just. Closes his eyes. And breathes out.

* * *

The next time he blinks awake, about an hour later, his whole right side is almost feverishly warm; this, it turns out, is because Roxanne is lying on her side with her back pressed against his arm. Well, that's not a huge indiscretion, but he still eases himself guiltily away from her.

He's turning away to sit up when it happens. Roxanne shifts in her sleep and rolls over into the spot Megamind just vacated, her hand coming up to hug his pillow, and her fingertips skate up the back of his neck to his skull.

Megamind flinches in anticipation of the searing pain that always comes when someone other than Minion touches him there, but—

Pleasure lances through him instead, a hot bright bolt of it stabbing straight to his groin, making him gasp.

He jerks out of bed and whips around, both hands coming up to clutch protectively at the top of his spine. What—what the hell—what was __that?__ That's not what usually—fuck, is he so goddamn obsessed that his pain responses aren't—

Apparently so. Apparently this is a thing that's happening now.

So that's. Great. Because this wasn't fucked-up enough already. At least Roxanne didn't wake up, at least she isn't asking why the hell he's so freaked-out.

He exhales, lowers his hands. Well. Not much he can do about it right now.

He dresses slowly on his own, struggling a little bit with the denim-over-polyethylfullerene but unwilling to summon any brainbots in case they wake someone else up, and completely unable to bring himself to rouse Roxanne. His kidnappee. The woman he drugs and ties to a chair on a more-or-less weekly basis. The woman who, in spite of this, trusts him enough to allow him to sleep in bed with her instead of on the floor or on the sofa. The woman who calls what he does __art__—even if it was just for pretend.

(The woman he tries __really hard__ not to think about when he's—engaging in certain activities but, __fuck__, that—that thing with his neck was—Megamind has never felt anything like what that was.)

(He rips his mind away from it. Refuses to look at it. This is not for him.)

He pulls his boots and his belt on, straps his gun to his leg, and then he heads downstairs in search of breakfast and distractions.

* * *

Rosemary is still up, crunching on toast and reading the newspaper at the round kitchen table. She nods at Megamind when he walks in. "Morning," she says. "Bread is in the cupboard over the coffee maker if you want toast."

Megamind nods and retrieves the bread. Toast is normal. He can make toast.

87534 drifts into the room at patrol height and sees him, bowgs happily, and sinks to eye level. It pulls even with the side of Megamind's head, requesting loves; he tips his cranium sideways and nods against it, rubbing his temple across its smooth dome as it clicks and whirrs at him softly.

Megamind puts the bread in the toaster, then turns and leans back against the counter and peers at Rosemary, who blinks back, nonplussed.

"Sleep okay?" she asks, after a moment, and Megamind frowns a little.

"Did we...talk? Earlier this morning?" he asks slowly. "I remember an interaction, but I wasn't...fully awake."

She grins. "Yeah, you seemed pretty out of it," she confirms. Megamind slumps and scrubs a hand down his face and tries to think about how to handle this.

If he was at home and embarrassed himself like this, he would threaten the counterparty with no fewer than three potential horrible fates. But he isn't at home, and this is Roxanne's sister; somehow, Megamind is pretty sure threats are not going to endear him to Roxanne's family.

Then again, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually care whether or not he endears himself to them. He doesn't care what they think of him at all. None of this is actually real. He'll probably never see Rosemary again. He—

"Can't believe you're already dressed and shaved and everything," Rose says. "No lounging around in pajamas when you're a supervillain?"

Megamind thinks of a few different ways to respond to this. Finally, he says, "I re-threaded yesterday before Roxanne arrived at Evil Lair. I probably won't need to tackle it again for another week or so."

Rose blinks a couple times. Ah, so that wasn't quite as transparent a segue as Megamind assumed. "Threaded...your eyebrows?"

"Also my beard," he says shortly. "I don't—you mentioned shaving. I don't shave. I just…groom. Fine-tune."

Behind him, the toast pops up. He turns and reaches for it, then scowls; it's much too pale to qualify as proper toast. He pushes the lever down for another round.

"Lucky," Rose says, raising her eyebrows, and Megamind turns back around. "I used to have to touch myself up twice a day. Hair grows fast in our family; I have no idea how Annie maintains her bob so well."

"She visits her hairdresser once every three weeks," Megamind says. "Every third Monday at four in the afternoon."

"Three __weeks__," Rose exclaims, startled. "I only go probably once every three __months__. That's insane."

Megamind shrugs. "You have much longer hair," he observes, because—this is how a conversation goes, yes? Back and forth, even if the back or forth is a fundamentally meaningless observation? He isn't very good at conversation, himself. He never has been.

But yesterday, when Roxanne was talking, it was—that was a back and forth, then, and that wasn't so hard. There was meaning, there. Like he talks with Roxanne, he tells himself, just like he talks with Roxanne. Back and forth. Easy.

Except it isn't easy, actually, because Rose isn't Roxanne. And Megamind is going to say something wrong any minute now, and Rose is going to sneer at him or laugh at him or roll her eyes—

And speaking of eyes, Golding flits in with Megamind's eyeliner in its claws. Megamind holds as still as he always does, glaring straight ahead, and Golding inks around his eyes in four perfect sweeps, one-two-three-four, the way it always does.

"Hey," Rose exclaims, sitting up a little. "That's pretty neat! Can your little robot do mine?"

Megamind pauses. Hm. "Possibly," he says, intrigued in spite of himself. He issues a brief command in BotSyn to Golding, then looks at Rosemary. "Stare straight here," he tells her, tapping the end of his nose. "__Do not__ move your eyes. !Golding—go."

And one-two-three-four, Rose is wearing black eyeliner. "Wow," she says, blinking, as Golding zips off to put the eyeliner away, "that was the single easiest application of eyeliner __ever__, in my __life__."

"It certainly saves me a lot of time," Megamind agrees. The toast pops up behind him again and he turns, then sighs. Oh, good! It's burned now! That's! Just peachy! Today is off to a great fucking start!

Well…whatever. He'll just...fix it, it's fine. He takes a plate down from the glass-paneled cupboard with the plates in it, and a knife from the drawer by the sink. Then he starts scraping the carbon-black crumbs off the surface of his toast and into the sink. This nearly always happens; it's just how toast goes, for him. Occasionally he will remember to come back to the toaster and pop it before it's ready, but—rarely. Hardly ever.

"Is that thing on your leg the dehydration gun Roxanne is always talking about?" Rose asks. Megamind nods. "You mind if I take a look?"

Megamind pauses in scraping his toast. "I am not in the habit of handing my weapons off to near-total strangers," he says. "Even the ones related to my girlfriend."

"You could get into the habit," Rose suggests.

"No."

Rose pauses for a moment, then nods. "Fair enough," she says. It's his prerogative, and she isn't sure if she wants to say anything about him wearing any kind of weapon openly in the house. It's non-lethal, from what Roxanne says, but—really? Wearing a gun on your hip the second day in your potential future mother-in-law's home?

And the way he's been talking—he didn't say much yesterday, either, but he sounded a little more personable. Right now he seems—flat. Unfriendly. Standing with his feet together, his shoulders square, his elbows slicked to his sides—he doesn't look like he wants to talk at all.

"Morning," Roxanne yawns, shuffling into the kitchen in her slipper socks and over to where Megamind is standing at the sink. "Were you able to get back to sleep?"

Megamind nods. And—oh, that's interesting, Rose thinks, looking at Megamind again. She can't see his face from her chair at the table, but the way he's standing has opened up completely. The line of his shoulders is different, more relaxed, and so is how he's holding his arms. And he—oh, he does the same thing he did with the other brainbot, earlier, the one with the studded dome: Roxanne leans down to kiss Megamind's sharp shoulder and his head tips sideways to rub briefly against hers before she straightens.

"Have you had coffee yet?" Roxanne asks, and Megamind hums a negative. "Can I fix it for you?"

He turns at that and looks at her. He isn't smiling, exactly, but what Rose can see of his expression is—softer. More gentle than it was when he was waiting for his toast. "You can," he says, "if you want to."

Roxanne smiles at him like she's confused. "Of course I want to, you goof," she says, reaching out and squeezing his wrist. "Rose, can you bring down one of the ice cream mugs for me?" She mock-scowls. "I'm too short."

Mystified by this request but willing to help, Rose gets to her feet and pulls down a mug the size of a small mixing bowl, intended for soup and not coffee or tea.

"And the sugar, too?" Roxanne asks. Rose rolls her eyes but also retrieves the bag of table sugar from its home on top of the fridge. "Thank youuu," Roxanne sings. "Best sisterrrr."

"Anything else your friendly neighborhood giraffe can get for you while she's up?" Rose asks, grinning down at Roxanne.

"Nope!" Roxanne says cheerfully. "That's all!"

She pours herself a mug, then fills the bowl about halfway with coffee and then—then she grabs the one-third measuring scoop out of its home in the drawer and dumps a heaping scoop of sugar into Megamind's coffee, stirring vigorously as she does so. Rose stares.

"I can make it," Megamind says, startling her. "If you want. It's…a pain. I know."

Roxanne laughs. "I've got it, love. But you could make me toast, if you wanted."

Megamind blinks, hesitates. But he gets to his feet anyway without saying anything, and drops two more slices of bread into the toaster to brown.

"Ooo, Rosie," Roxanne says suddenly. "Please tell me you brought the special coffee set."

"Sure did," Rose confirms. Megamind hasn't turned back around the way he did before; he appears to be staring fixedly down into the toaster. The tension is back in his shoulders, again.

"Awesome. Hey, Megamind," Roxanne says. "Have you ever had Turkish coffee? It's __amazing__."

"No," he says. "I never have." He presses the cancel button on the toaster, then immediately slams the toast back down with an air of satisfaction before coming back to the table. Over by the sink, Roxanne is busily stirring a second scoop of sugar into Megamind's mug.

"We'll have to make you some," Rose says, and Megamind glances over at her. "Salim grinds the beans himself."

Megamind blinks at her, and then his eyebrows sort of twitch. "I would—I would like to try that," he says. "New coffee. Is it sweet?"

Rose shakes her head. "No," she says, "and some people say it's even more bitter than regular coffee, since you're drinking the ground coffee beans, but I think it tastes mellower."

"And if you don't like it, I'll drink the rest of yours," Roxanne says, finally slipping into the chair next to Megamind's and handing him a mug of tan liquid that looks significantly more viscous than Rose is accustomed to seeing in coffee. Megamind shoots her a grateful smile and then darts away briefly—Roxanne's toast has just popped up—but then he's back to sip his coffee and chew on his dry toast.

The hand he isn't eating with, the hand lying on the table next to Roxanne's, twitches. He stretches his fingers a little, pauses—and then curls it into a fist.

__Interesting__, Rosemary thinks again. She would have sworn he was going to take Roxanne's hand, but—huh. Was it an ask? Roxanne has just moved her hand to wrap around Megamind's fist. But no, not an ask; he's looking up at Roxanne with what seems like surprise.

Megamind turns his hand over to try netting his fingers with Roxanne's, but then he has to scowl and look away. His fingers stretch almost all the way to her wrist when he curls them down over the back of her hand. Because of course they do, because not even the little things can be in any way normal where he's concerned.

"You have such beautiful hands," Roxanne says, squeezing gently, and Megamind's gaze snaps back to her face, sure she's laughing at him. But there's no amusement he can read in her expression. Or scorn. "They're so elegant," she says, sending him a small smile. And then she lifts his leather-clad knuckles to her mouth, kisses them before disentangling herself and reaching for the honey on the table for her toast.

Megamind swallows and wraps both his too-long hands around his coffee cup, sips contemplatively.

* * *

"I remembered what I was going to ask about last night," Roxanne says quietly, a little bit later, curled up on the couch the way Megamind usually curls against her. She's been scrolling through Facebook for a few minutes, and Megamind is on some kind of tablet, doing work that involves him wearing strange, black-glimmering webs over his gloves and twitching his fingers in the air, delicate frameworks of sensory circuits that track the movements of his hands. "I meant to ask you about kissing."

Megamind stills. "What about it?"

Roxanne sits up a little bit so she can look at his pointed face. Dorothy and Rose and Salim are taking Echo for a walk; Megamind said he would rather have some quiet time and Roxanne figured it would make sense for her to stay back as well. After the other three left, she asked her serial kidnapper if he'd like her to leave him alone for a while, but—to her surprise—he said if she wanted to sit with him, he wouldn't mind. He's looking at her, now, his hands hovering in the air, but his expression is, for once, difficult to read.

"Well," she says, speaking slowly and carefully, "would you be okay with it?"

Over the past few weeks, she's had the opportunity to spend more time with Megamind than she ever has before. Over the past day or so, she's had the opportunity—and seized that opportunity—to sit closer to Megamind than she's ever been able to before. Currently, there's a couple inches of space between their hips, but Roxanne is very aware of the length of her thigh that's pressed to his. He's sitting as straight as he always does, his head up, his vibrant eyes huge in his blue face as he watches her.

And he is __watching__, really. Not staring, exactly, just—he's just sitting very still, and watching her, and thinking. And after a long few seconds, his eyes flick to her mouth for a moment, and then back up as the corner of __his__ mouth tugs into something like a smile. He nods.

Yes, Roxanne thinks amazed. Yes? Holy shit? That's a yes?

Not only has he kept most of his clothing for this trip spike-free, not only is he willing to sit at her side—curled into her or cuddling her in against his shoulder—not only is he willing to say sweet things about her and sleep next to her in her bed—he's willing to kiss her, on top of these things?

And his mouth tugs in that little smile, but his eyes are dark as they slip away from her face and back down to the tablet balanced on his knees, and—

Roxanne lifts her hand to the clean edge of his jaw before she can tell herself not to. Megamind's attention snaps up as she turns him back to face her.

Feeling frozen and more than half panicked at her own boldness (where do we go from here? where? boy, you really thought this one through, Roxanne; well done), she touches his lips with her thumb, and Megamind's eyebrows sort of—twitch—and—

—suddenly his jaw moves and he's grinning shark-wide at her with laughing eyes and wicked eyebrows and her __thumb__ caught between his __teeth__, and Roxanne is laughing helplessly at this reaction.

"You," she says, "Megamind, you—__completely ridiculous__ creature—"

Still laughing, he lets her pull her thumb back; Roxanne, also laughing, slides her hand around to the back of his head and pulls him into a kiss that he's still smiling into when he tilts his head to give her a better angle.

His lips are cool and soft, as the skin of his head is warmer and soft, and he seems only too happy to kiss her back—

It's over quickly, just a few quick presses of lips, but they're both grinning, and Megamind follows her when she starts to withdraw, and—and so she kisses him again, because he's still smiling and because his mouth is so gentle. And this time it's slower, a little less breathless and a little more careful, and Roxanne opens her mouth a little and presses her lips to his just a touch harder before she breaks away, blinking her eyes open and moving her hand down to his shoulder.

And Megamind—he sits very still, holds himself steady, which is how, when he stirs a moment after she does, Roxanne gets to see him with his eyes half-lidded and his lips parted around the softest smile she's ever seen on __anyone__, let alone this knife-sharp supervillain—and—

__Oh__, she thinks, startled.

Megamind blinks at her once, and then suddenly there's pink blooming across his high cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears and up his forehead and down his slim neck, and he's sinking his teeth into his bottom lip for a second before he has to turn away, laughing all over again. Roxanne drops her hand from his shoulder as he turns, rests it on his leg just above his knee, instead.

"Roxanne," he finally manages, while Roxanne just sits and gazes at him, delighted by his whole reaction and sort of frozen, now, herself, because her heart has just leapt up in her chest and sang __yes, yes__. "What—aaah. What are you doing," he asks, with an unfamiliar fond note in his low voice. Or—is it amused? Maybe Roxanne just wants him to be fond of her? Is it both? "Miss Ritchi," he says, still in that low voice, his eyebrows tweaking up in the middle of his forehead as he looks back at her, blushing all over his face, "what are you doing to me?"

It sounds rhetorical, so Roxanne swallows the words __I'm falling in love with you__ down into her heart where they belong. Instead, she says, "Megamind, those things you said yesterday—when we were talking to my mother—did you mean them?"

He blinks, lifts his eyebrows like he's surprised she's asking. "Every word," he says, still blushing, still smiling at her.

"Even when you said I was brilliant?" she asks, a little wistfully, and Megamind cocks his head.

"Of course," he says, sounding more startled than ever. "You—Roxanne, you're the smartest person I know." She blinks at that, then wrinkles her nose, sends him a __Look__, and he chuckles. "No, really," he says. "There's more to __smart__ than just building fancy machines. It's all you, Miss Ritchi. I—"

His watch beeps, and Minion's voice crackles into the room, making them both jump. "Sir? Could you—um, the code that came through starting three minutes or four minutes ago or so seems—scrambled, could you take a look?"

"Aha!" Megamind exclaims guiltily, and Roxanne bites her lip, trying not to laugh at his somewhat googly-eyed expression. "Ah. Aha. Yes, right! Apologies, Minion. I was—distracted."

"Hi, Minion," Roxanne calls. "How's Evil Lair?"

"Oh! Hello, Miss Ritchi! We're fine here, although the Host was somewhat confused as to Sir's location before I issued an update. Um, a—I've just found out, a small group wound up flocking before the update went out and they're already sequestered and at distance, so they're still en route—current projections show them arriving at your mother's in the wee hours of the 26th but they were all fully-charged so they __may__ arrive late at night on Christmas Day. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience—I can call them back if you like but it'll be complicated—"

Megamind opens his mouth, his expression pained, but Roxanne quickly says, "Oh, that's okay, Minion!" and Megamind pulls back and blinks at her, looking startled. She just grins and pats his knee. "We'll probably be heading home late on Christmas anyway. The more bots, the merrier! How many are flocking?"

"Only nine or so," Minion says. "Sir, I can—I can give you their serials, if you want to push them back—"

Megamind glances at Roxanne, who frowns and shakes her head. They're already on their way, why push back? He nods once and clears his throat. "No, Minion, that—that won't be necessary. The—more the merrier, as Roxanne says."

"Well, that's fine, then, Sir," Minion says, sounding relieved. Also sounding sort of weirdly delighted about something. "Um. It sounds like you're—busy? Why don't we finish coding this another time? Later. Um."

"Yes, that sounds good," Megamind agrees. "Well, I'll—go, then. I'm sure we'll talk later."

"I'll see you in a few days, Sir," Minion says. "Bye, Miss Ritchi, Merry Christmas!"

She laughs. "See you soon, Minion."

* * *

****FantasticFish: ok it is DEFINITELY happening  
FantasticFish: you can naysay all you want but it DEFINITELY IS  
****__MetroImperative: what's happening  
__****FantasticFish: SIR and MISS RITCHI can you PLEASE try to keep UP  
****__MetroImperative: oh oh right yeah i remember  
MetroImperative: what makes you so sure now?  
__****FantasticFish: Sir is writing new code and he sent me like four whole minutes of garbled nonsense! and when I buzzed his watch he said he was ''''''distracted''''''  
FantasticFish: ! ! ! ! ! !  
****__MetroImperative: ok?  
__****FantasticFish: OK? OK?! sir doesn't garble his code! You know this! he can do two different languages on two different keyboards with his right and left hands!  
****__MetroImperative: ok?  
__****FantasticFish: "ok" he says  
FantasticFish: metro man one of these days you're going to make me roll my eyes so hard they get stuck staring at the front of my brain upside-down  
FantasticFish: ANYWAY what i'm saying is, Sir would have to be EXTREMELY DISTRACTED to mess up this badly for that length of time! AND after he said he was distracted, Miss ritchi said hello to me, so I know she was there  
FantasticFish: THEY WERE KISSING I KNOW IT  
****__MetroImperative: haha I'm rooting for you man  
__****FantasticFish: don't forget if i'm right you gotta quit your job and turn the city over to sir and me  
****__MetroImperative: oh believe me i have not forgotten  
MetroImperative: i am praying for you__

* * *

As Megamind taps the face of his watch twice to terminate the connection, Roxanne stretches and lets out a contented sigh.

Head spinning, he glances over at her. She just—her mouth, she just—__kissed__ him. Twice, even. While smiling. Laughing. Happy. Megamind is not sure what the heck is going on with his body but the dark, hollowed-out space behind his sternum is—lit up and fluttering and—it feels like light, a little bit. Or like a bird shaking dust out of its feathers, like he's about to leap into the sky. Or—

"Hey," Roxanne says, grinning at him now with her elbows on her knees like she's going to stand up. "Have you ever watched Home Alone?"

"I have not," Megamind says, finding his voice and thinking wow, that's sort of a miracle considering how ethereally light and airy he feels all of a sudden.

Roxanne's grin gets bigger. "How about it? It's one of my favorite holiday movies."

He has no idea what Home Alone is other than a movie, but he's game for literally anything, right now. He nods.

"Awesome." She stands up, stretches again. "I need to use the bathroom, first, but I'll be right back and then we can get set up!"

* * *

She does not, actually, need to use the bathroom. She needs to think, and she needs just a little bit of time and—and a little bit of space in which to do it, because that previously-unidentified emotional component to her feelings re: Megamind has just reared its head and identified itself as the Big L. And so here is the answer to all her sleepless questions about romantic vs platonic:

It Doesn't Fucking Matter. She loves him. He's important to her and she wants him to be happy, she wants to put that soft smile on his face more often, and that's more than enough to go on, right now; she can finish addressing what kind of love it is if she's lucky enough to get far enough for that to even become an issue. If there are still any doubts when the time comes. For now—for now, at least she knows she loves him.

Which she thinks she probably should have realized years ago, but Roxanne has never been the best at being able to identify how she's feeling at any given point in time unless that feeling is __really big__. And sometimes not even then. This tends to make things difficult.

But hindsight is 20/20, so hindsight shows her the clearest picture, which is that she is hopelessly, helplessly in love with a goddamn supervillain, and she has no idea what to do about it. And the thing is, she wouldn't even be upset! She would be thrilled! Except for the fact that they're __faking__, all of this is just for __pretend__, just temporary. Just—

Well, __she's __been sincere. Roxanne can't lie very well in person and she knows it, but that isn't a problem here; she's great at acting. She just made a slight mental adjustment before they left Metro City and told herself not to overthink, just act like she really is dating him, act like she really does love him. And it was __easy__.

Turns out it was easy because 'warm and fuzzy' is putting her feelings mildly. When did this even start? Was it the sweater thing? Was it earlier than that?

It must have been earlier. It must have been, because she—oh. Oh, she should not have been as okay with Minion's idea as quickly as she was, should she? She remembers thinking Megamind got on board awfully quickly, but Roxanne herself didn't even hesitate. It didn't even __occur__ to her to hesitate.

And there is the attraction component to consider. She's wanted him for ages and apparently he __isn't __an exception to the warm-fuzzies-first rule, but—oh but __this__, though, this isn't even wanting him, this is—this is wanting to __hold him__, and that's so, so much worse. Plain old sex drive she can deal with, but her heart is another story. And—

—and, yeah, none of this is actually new, now that she's finally thinking about it. Oh, lord.

She squeezes her lip between her teeth, then splashes water on her face. And then she leans on the sink and stares at herself in the mirror, dripping, the wet ends of her hair clinging to her forehead.

She hasn't felt the need to find a quiet space away from Megamind since they left Metro City yesterday. That is almost completely unheard-of, for her. Even with her family, even with people whose company she enjoys, Roxanne almost always needs to excuse herself periodically to go someplace quiet and breathe—a bathroom or a guest room or, on one memorable occasion when she was a small child, the cupboard under a sink. Sometimes it happens even if she's one-on-one with someone. But she hasn't needed to hide once, yet, with Megamind, and—and she spent __all night__ with him—she's spent __hours __interacting with him in the past few weeks and she hasn't ever needed to seek space away.

Even in the past few years, she realizes abruptly, the kidnappings—they feel like respites. They feel like space away. They didn't always, they used to be a source of stress for her, but that hasn't been the case in years. One time, she was having just an __awful__ day, and she was going to cancel her plans for the evening and stay in and recharge, but then Megamind kidnapped her and somehow that gave her the energy to go out and enjoy dinner with a friend from school who she hadn't seen in years.

He's __restorative__. She can count the number of people for whom that's true on the fingers of one hand, because the number is __one__, and it's Megamind.

Okay. She's okay. She just. Needs to think about how to modify her approach. Does she need to modify her approach? Does she, at all? She's assuming this is going to turn out the same way as it usually does for her, but Megamind has never been what she expected. And he did just say she's the smartest person he knows, and he's __Megamind__; that's…significant, yes? And he seemed awfully flustered about the kissing. So, she has a chance. She does. She must. If he's attracted to her at all it's possible he hasn't noticed, either; maybe it crept up on him, too, so—

Should she—she could try to—Roxanne is good at seeing what people want and showing it to them; it's second nature to her, at this point—she could—

__Slow down, Roxie. Slow. Think. Both eyes open, think; act, don't just __re__act.__

She squeezes her thumbs in her fists until they hurt, tries to focus, tries to think about—what does __she __want, here; what does __she__—

Stop. Think of the best-case scenario. Best case. Worst case.

__Best__ case, he falls for her, too. He falls for her, too, and they fly off into the sunset and get married and they're still teasing each other when they're ninety-five and he has to help her find her glasses in the morning so she can help him find his teeth. Worst case…he doesn't fall for her, and he finds out __she __has fallen for __him__, and—

Hmm. Which is worse? Either he stops kidnapping her entirely, in which case she'll never see him again and she'll be devastated but she'll eventually make peace with it, __or __he keeps kidnapping her while laughing at her about her feelings. In which case she'll probably stop feeling good about him pretty quickly. That second option is unlikely, though; Megamind is many things, but cruel is not one of them. He can be petty, but he certainly is not cruel. So, he won't scorn her, probably. Probably he isn't likely to laugh at her. She can see him being flattered but sympathetic, though, or horrified. Horror is more likely, given his __you're a good person__ and __obviously, visibly evil__ comments from last night.

(She's still aching over that __obviously, visibly__ thing.)

So. How to proceed? Because Roxanne can think of all the potential reactions she wants, can't she, but she can't really control which one he gives her. She can hope, but really all she can control is her own actions. She controls her actions, not her results, and—she might lose track of that sometimes but she does love him, she does, so—fuck, no: she can't go into this trying to trick him, trying to show him what he wants to see. She can't, she—no. She has to be who she is.

Whoever __that__ is. Sometimes even she isn't sure. So the real question here is not __what do I want__ or __what do I fear__, the question, now that she's really thinking and getting into her stride—the question is—

The question is not what she wants from him; the question is what she wants from herself. And she wants the same thing that she has always wanted, which is for her heart to be a source of strength. Not fear.

(She hasn't feared Megamind in years; she isn't even sure she remembers how. Certainly not about this.)

So the question is __how do I want to be about this__.

Roxanne stands in front of the sink with water drying on her face, staring down at the drain without seeing it.

__How do I want to be?__

She wants to be kind. And honest. She always wants those things, but she wants to be warm for Megamind, too, wants to be warm __to__ him. She wants to be a safe place for him. And she wants to show him how she loves him, how he can be loved—how he __should__ be loved, in case—in case he meets someone else, someday, who wants to love him. He'll know, then. What this should feel like.

What was it she thought, earlier?

Oh. There it is. She wants to be for him what he has become for her. Whatever Megamind's quiet space looks like, however his quiet space is, that's how Roxanne wants to be, she wants—

Roxanne bites her lip, tears welling. She wants to be his quiet space, too.

Of course, the most she can do is show him she __can __be that for him. Maybe he isn't the sort of person who needs quiet space, or maybe his quiet space can't include anyone. Or maybe it only includes Minion. But it's what Roxanne hopes she would be if they really were dating. Which they aren't!

Fuck.

Okay.

Even if she thinks she has a chance with him, she needs to go into this under the assumption that he won't love her back. She needs to. She won't be able to deal with the disappointment otherwise. But that's okay—that's okay. She can love him just as fiercely on her own. Roxanne loves hopelessly, but a breaking heart can love as easily and fully as a whole one.

(Fuck. This is. Going to be hard. It already sort of hurts; it already feels the way breathing through tears feels, clenching and shivery—but—there's joy in this, too, in being in love regardless of whether it's returned—)

And even if this is hard, even if—God, even if she receives no happy ending from this, even if all she receives from this is bittersweetness, it's still something beautiful, yes? His dancing eyes, his blush as he turned away from her, his hands that ask before they touch her; these are beautiful.

(how can this be called __falling __when it feels so much like flying)

Roxanne turns on the tap and splashes cold water over her face again, then leans her wet face in her hands for a moment, just breathing. She may not have a say in whether he loves her back, but she darn well controls her actions and so—

She raises her head, straightens her shoulders and spine.

She can show him how she loves. Show him how she would be if he was hers as much as she is his. And she can take what he gives her and—and it will have to be enough, won't it? It will have to be.

What Roxanne wants to do is burst into tears and curl up in fear of—of what this means, of what this will become, of this unknown that's suddenly making itself known. But she'll have time for that later. She can give herself time for that later. For now, she's afraid, but—she can be strong, too. She can be both at once; strength and fear can coexist as tightly as joy and pain, which are wefted on the same warp.

Yes. She feels okay about this decision. Love him hard, love him fiercely, love him as fully as she can for today and tomorrow, try not to overstep or push him, and just…go with it. Let him be her quiet space until he tells her to back off. It—the idea hurts but it doesn't leave her feeling guilty, and that's really all she can hope for, here. Love and guilt aren't two types of pain she wants to mix.

She swallows hard. Squeezes both thumbs in her fists until they hurt.

Okay.

Oh, oh and—oh—if he asks—what if he asks, what if he figures it out—

She freezes. If—

No. Easy answer. If he asks about it, she'll explain. And let him decide what he wants to do. Either way, even if he doesn't figure it out, he does deserve to be told. He deserves to know.

But not now. Later.

Later.


	8. Chapter 8

can I get an amen on oxidized aluminum being bad to touch?

anyone? no? just me?

* * *

CHAPTER 8

They aren't very far into the movie yet when the family gets back from their walk. Megamind is sitting in one reclining end of the sofa, next to the little fold-down table, and Roxanne is curled up on the other side of the fold-down table, where her mother usually sits.

"Oooh," Rose exclaims, coming into the family room and flopping down on the other end of the sofa, pulling the lever to extend the foot rest there. "Is this a private party or can I join, too?"

"Come on and join, we just got started a few minutes ago," Roxanne says. "Hey Salim, you want in on this?"

"Oh, you know I do," he says, sitting down next to his wife. Echo hops up onto the sofa by her dad and puts her huge head in his lap with a big doggy sigh. "Coffee and lunch after this?" he asks, gently rubbing behind Echo's ears. "And then your mom and Rose and I were all talking about maybe going ice skating later this afternoon down at Pritchards Pond."

"Sounds great," she agrees, nodding. "Yeah, coffee and ice skating sounds good to me Megamind?"

He looks over at her. "Hm?"

"Coffee and ice skating?"

"I like coffee," he says slowly. "Have never tried ice skating. I think—I could try it."

Roxanne smiles at him. "I bet you'll do great," she says. "You're super graceful around the Lair."

Dorothy appears in the doorway while he's still blinking at that. "Oh," she says, "Home Alone! Really one of the best Christmas movies."

Roxanne pushes herself up. "Here, there's still a seat on the sofa," she says, "I kept it warm for you! Megamind, scoot over."

"Oh," Dorothy says again, sounding startled this time, "no, Annie, that's okay! I can sit in the rocking chair, it's all right, you sit on the sofa."

"Psh, that old, hard thing?" Roxanne says scornfully. "When I can lie on my boyfriend and free up your seat? Why? Megamind, seriously, scoot your boot."

He makes a startled little noise in his throat but shifts sideways and sits up a little, and—and what? What's happening? Oh—but—?

Roxanne ends with her head sort of pillowed on his shoulder and her arm around his middle, staring down his body at the television. It works; they can both see, and they're both warm. And if—if Megamind just bent his neck a little, just lifted his head a little, he could put his nose in her hair. She's. So close, __so__ close. Pressed to his body, full-length against him, her soft curves sinking into the couch and totally in contrast to the hard angles of Megamind's side.

And after a moment, she wiggles a little and straightens her sweater so it isn't rumpled up against him, and then settles, and sighs. "Mmm," she says. "Okay. I like this. Is this okay?" Glancing up at him.

Megamind drags words from somewhere, he has no idea where. This is—more—more contact than he's had in—his whole life, almost. Definitely since he got his own bed as a toddler and started sleeping on his own.

(she kissed him only a few minutes ago, she __kissed him__ and now she's __lying on him__ and this is not—cannot possibly be okay, but—no one is shouting, no one is staring—)

"Yes," he says lightly. "Yes, this is fine. Are you—comfortable?" Roxanne nods, and Megamind—slowly—slowly curls his arm up, slowly rests his hand on her hip, and says, "I'm glad. So am I."

And she makes the same little hum as she did before, and snuggles into him to watch the movie.

(He had thought his hand in her hair was nice, but holy smokes; this is—beyond anything he's ever dared to—)

He does eventually get over his shock, is eventually able to forget the delicious tingling in every inch of his everywhere. And he does enjoy the movie, it turns out, because this Kevin McAllister person is a top-notch trapbuilder. A budding supervillain if Megamind has ever seen one, truly. Salim makes a comment at one point, about him being '__extra,'__ and while Salim doesn't actually say what Kevin is extra of, Megamind is pretty sure it means __presentation__.

There's a subplot with an older gentleman that makes his throat tight for reasons he doesn't quite understand or want to think about, but—overall, a good movie. Enjoyable.

"It's no Die Hard," he says when it's over and Roxanne asks if he liked it, and Salim and Roxanne make disparaging noises while Rose and Dorothy make much louder noises of agreement, "Die Hard is the best Christmas movie. But this was…nice."

("Die hard, really?" Roxanne asks, a little later. "Not the Grinch? I had you pegged as a Grinch man for sure."

Megamind stills. He used to like the Grinch, used to enjoy the sort of poetic tragedy of a scorned, reviled humbug being welcomed into town, but—

"The Jim Carrey version sort of ruined it for me," he says, trying to sound blase. Trying to sound as if he hadn't felt like his soul was ripping in half for that whole cursed film, trying to sound like he hadn't spent the night he watched it curled up on his side with his heart in his throat, trying to figure out how his whole life wound up going so irretrievably wrong.)

* * *

They have sandwiches for lunch, arguing good-naturedly about what kind of bread is best for what kind of sandwich, and then Salim says he'll make coffee, and—

"Roxanne," Dorothy says, working over a cutting board a few minutes later while Salim heats a small, long-handled pot on the stovetop, "could you do the carrots for this so we can get it in the slow cooker for tonight before we go skating?"

Roxanne pulls out a cutting board from its narrow cupboard by the stove and a sharp knife from the knife drawer. Then she reaches for the potato peeler, thinking she'll peel the carrots, but—

"Oh, just use the vegetable brush," Dorothy says, handing it to her. "Just scrub them off, that's fine."

"Sure," Roxanne says, and sets about scrubbing dirt off the carrots at the sink.

"And remember to cut—"

"—in the middle and work my way out so I get an even number; yes, Mom, I remember."

Behind her, Rosemary asks, "Megamind, going back to the eyeliner thing for a moment, have you ever considered wings? You've definitely got the eyes for it."

Wings? Megamind wonders. "I'm not sure what those are," he admits slowly.

"Little picks of eyeliner that go up from the outer corners of your eyes," Roxanne says over her shoulder, as Rose excuses herself to go get her makeup bag. "Like a cat. Sort of."

"Huh," Megamind says, thinking about this. Well, he's trying about a million other new things on this trip, what's one more? "I have not considered that, no."

"Would you like to?" Rose calls down the stairs as she comes back, already digging through her bag. It's blue, with pastel polka dots.

"Um," he says. "I—yes?"

"Excellent," she says, and she has her black liquid eyeliner out by the time she's sliding into the chair at the kitchen table next to him. "Okay, I think this will look __so cool__ on you. And I promise not to poke you in the eye."

Megamind swallows. He has many, many misgivings about this, but… "You trusted Golding, this morning," he says. "So…I suppose I'll let you try this. But you get __one try__."

Rose grins. "I'll make it count," she promises. "Okay, close your eyes, come here…lean forward…"

She takes his chin in her hand and tilts his face, and a few seconds later, he feels something cool and vaguely rough at the corner of his eye.

"So, you've got good lids for this," Rose tells him. "Feel what I'm doing, here? Start in the middle and sort of sweep—out—and then use the angle you get from the bottom lid. Just follow the curve up from your lash line, you know? Like this—see?" She pauses, filling in the thin lines, then says, "Annie, look!"

"Washing carrots," Roxanne says, but she must pause for a moment, because she makes an appreciative noise.

"And now we do the other one," Rose says happily, turning his head again with a sure hand on his jaw. "I have to say, Megamind, you're __loads__ more calm than a lot of the guys I work with on this. They can be __so jumpy!__ Do you wear mascara?"

"Um," he says, thrown. "No?"

"Would you like to?" she asks again.

"Rose, what are you doing," Roxanne's voice says from the sink as Rose's brush skims his eyelid, and Megamind hears Rose give a huffy little sigh.

"I'm just __asking__," she says. "He was fine about the nail polish and he wears eyeliner on the daily! I'm curious!"

Megamind clears his throat. "What, what does mascara do?"

"It keeps you from rubbing your eyes," Roxanne says loudly, but Rose scoffs this away.

"Okay, mascara—hang on, don't open yet, let it dry for juuust a sec first—mascara makes your lashes look longer and thicker. You should be good now." Megamind opens his eyes and Rose hands him a powder compact with a mirror in it so he can see what she's done. "So, eyeliner is dramatic, right?" she says. "Yes, it can be used to accentuate the eye, make it pop, but—__you__ wear it primarily because it's bold. It's a statement. Yes?"

He tilts the mirror this way and that, studying the effect. The wings she's added aren't terribly big, but they do…add something. Huh.

"I started wearing it because I'm in front of cameras a lot," he says, and Rosemary grins at him. "But…yes. It is a statement, also."

"Right," she says. "I—sorry, I don't know if Roxie's told you what I do? I'm a makeup artist in my spare time. In theater, mostly, but people hire me to do their faces for events, too. I don't have all my gear with me, or we could __really__ have some fun, but I can do a little bit, if you want!"

"Rosemary, really," Dorothy says, sounding disparaging. "Right here? In the kitchen?"

Rose rolls her eyes. "Yes, in the kitchen, it's not like any of this is going to __spill__. I am good at my job." She grins at Megamind, leans in, drops her voice to a stage whisper. "I'll tell you a secret—this isn't my real hairline."

Megamind blinks at her, completely unsure how to respond to this, and he peers at her hairline a little. She tips her head forward for him to see. Megamind isn't really in the habit of inspecting human hair, but hers looks…fine, to him.

"It's true," she says in a normal speaking voice. "I have—really thin hair? And, like, that's __fine__, that's totally okay! Lots of people do; there's nothing wrong with that; but for __me__, just…" She trails off and shrugs, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I know how to fix it, so Salim does my extensions every couple of months, and I wear a hairpiece that lowers my hairline. Blend it in with liquid latex and spirit gum, et voila! And my highlights are partly actually my sister's old hair," she adds with a wicked smile, and Roxanne makes such a theatrical gagging noise from the sink that Megamind actually twists in his seat, alarmed.

"Ugh, Rose! Seriously?" Roxanne says, turning around, looking at once delighted and abjectly horrified. "You're still using my old braids? I thought you ran out ages ago!"

Rose laughs and flips her long hair. "Salim uses it for my highlights up top," she says, in a tone that tells Megamind she's been sitting on this information for a long time. "I'm almost out, but I've still got enough for another few months." To Megamind, she says, "Annie used to have __super__ long hair. Like, butt-length. And her hair is __so thick__, I'm so jealous."

"It has a pleasing texture," he agrees, and Rose grins while Roxanne snorts with laughter.

"Anyway, when she got it cut off, I asked if I could have her braid." She shrugs. "She was going to donate it, but I explained my…thing, and…she came back with her hair in a plastic bag for me."

Megamind cocks his head. "Thing," he says.

"Well," says Rose, and stops.

"I always wanted a sister when we were kids," Roxanne puts in. "Turns out I had one all along. So if I can make things easier for her, hair-wise…why not?"

Ah. Okay. Megamind is pretty sure he's picking up what they're saying, and he can ask Roxanne later if he needs to. So he just sends a quiet sort of smile at Rose, and says, "I know very little about hair, but I think it looks nice." Then he clears his throat and asks, "Why should I care about my eyelashes? And why am I—better than the other men you work on?"

She grins at him, blue eyes sparkling, and Megamind relaxes a little. He read a situation correctly, hooray. "Oh, they're just not used to having things near their eyes, I think. They get __super__ __twitchy__. But like I was saying, mascara thickens and lengthens your natural lashes," she says, digging in her bag again. "Depending on how you apply it, it can make your eyes look bigger. Aha! But I'm not focusing on that for you," she adds, "your eyes are plenty big already—they're __lovely,__ not kidding—for you, I want to lean into the drama. You've got long lashes already, so I just want to lengthen the ones out here," gesturing to the outer corners of his eyes, "and just __really__ play into the cat-eye thing."

Blinking, Megamind says, "My eyes do reflect in low light."

She laughs. "I noticed," she admits wryly. "This morning, when I came downstairs. You opened your eyes over by the sofa and I about had a heart attack."

And—she's still laughing, but—

—but it sounds almost like she's laughing at herself? Instead of at him?

Megamind smiles uncertainly, and Rose says, "Okay, lean forward again and—and look up—good, hold just like that—"

He feels a slight tugging, a coolness by his skin, and then suddenly she's doing his other eye, and—

"And we're done!" she exclaims, capping the little tube and stowing it away. "Good __lord__, you're calm. So? What do you think?"

Megamind tips his head this way and that, studying his eyes in the little mirror. "I like it," he admits, surprised. The difference is subtle, but his eyelashes do seem…thicker? The effect really does work with the wings she gave him first. They were fine on their own, but the mascara is…interesting.

Rose sends him a satisfied smile as Salim sets two small cups in front of them.

"Turkish coffee for the two lovely made-up people," he announces, dropping a quick kiss on his wife's mouth.

Megamind blinks down at the cup as Salim slides in at the seat across from him. The liquid in the small, straight-sided cup is…very dark. __Very__ dark. Very unlike what he usually likes his coffee to look like.

"Fair warning," Salim says as Megamind studies his beverage. "I don't think you'll like this. I added more sugar than I usually would, but not nearly as much as Rose says you take in your coffee. But it is different, so…"

Megamind swallows. Shrugs at him. Says, "Thank you for letting me try," because really, he is appreciative. And lifts the cup to his mouth.

It's…huh. Hm.

It's a lot thicker than he was expecting. And it is—mellower than the coffee he's used to; he can see what Rose was talking about earlier, but—it is—also a lot more bitter. A __lot__ more bitter. No. This is not for him. No thank you. He does not like this.

He grimaces at Salim, who laughs. Doesn't seem offended yet. That's…unexpected. Unexpected but good.

(why does he even __care__, __ugh__)

Then he turns to Roxanne. "Roxanne," he says, because she was okay trying his dinner the other night, and because she said she would, "do you—want to drink the rest of my coffee?"

She turns away from her cutting board. "I do!" she exclaims, taking the cup from him with a smile that looks genuinely happy. Well, more power to her, he supposes. "Your eyes look nice," she adds.

"Thank you," he says stiffly. "They feel—weirdly heavy, I don't know if I like that part of this."

She laughs, and—and she is definitely laughing __at __him, but—it doesn't feel malicious. "Well," she says, smiling at him over the rim of her little cup, "even if you never wear it again, you tried it, and I am proud of you. And it really does look good."

Behind her, Dorothy says, "Oh—Annie, that isn't the knife for carrots. Here, use this one."

Roxanne turns. "Mom, I don't like that knife," she says. "I like the other one."

"But that isn't the knife for carrots," her mother says. "This one is better."

And—well, she isn't wrong; the knife she's holding is a chef's knife, good for chopping vegetables, whereas Roxanne's knife is small and serrated. She has to cut the carrots with little sawing motions.

"I'm making them into chunks," Roxanne says. "Does it matter what knife I'm using?"

"Yes," Dorothy says, "because this one is the one for carrots. It's a better chopping knife for carrots; just use this one, it's fine."

But it's just carrots! It's not like she's taking forever with them! It's not like Roxanne minds cutting instead of chopping them! And most importantly—

"That one has an aluminum handle," Roxanne says, trying to sound patient. "I don't like oxidized aluminum, remember?"

Dorothy rolls her eyes. "Oh, Annie, it's just a knife. It's fine."

Yes, sure, it's fine, except for the part where oxidized aluminum has always felt sort of like hot fiberglass insulation on her skin. The gray handle of the knife her mom is holding out is one Roxanne has hated her whole life, and Roxanne has explained this a million times and her mother always forgets. "Ma, I—that one isn't—I __don't like__ that one. I'm just going to keep using the other one."

"This one is better," Dorothy insists, putting it down on the cutting board and taking the one Roxanne was using over to the sink to wash. "Just use it, Roxanne. It's fine."

Roxanne takes a deep breath, tries to let it out slowly. __It's just a knife__, she tells herself, glaring at it. Wanting to explain, knowing they'll just tell her not to get defensive about it. __It's just a knife. You can wrap a paper towel around the handle__.

(She'll still feel it every time the towel shifts, though.)

Megamind slips into her field of vision, slips between her and the carrots and her mother's hated particularity re: kitchen utensils. "I'll cut the carrots," he says, picking up the aluminum-handled knife. "You—go have coffee—love. You go have coffee, love, I'll finish cutting the carrots."

Roxanne blinks at him, startled. Thinks again, __I love you__. "Are you sure?" she says.

"Of course! We're—a team, we—support each other! Teamwork!" he exclaims, but he looks at her with that certain tweak of his eyebrows that Roxanne is learning means __is this okay,__ and so she reaches out and brushes the backs of her fingers down his arm and smiles at him.

"Teamwork," she agrees, wanting to kiss him again, and he relaxes.

Dorothy glances over at them as Roxanne turns away to go and sit. "She can __cut __the __carrots__," she begins, but Megamind cuts her off.

"So can I," he says. "I can cut them, too, so—you choose: she cuts carrots with a knife you __don't __like, or __I__ cut carrots with a knife you __do__ like."

"It's just a knife," Dorothy protests. "I don't see why everything needs to be such a big deal."

"Mom, nobody is criticizing you," Rose says quietly.

(Because ah, yes—that's the part Roxanne always forgets when her mother does this. Dorothy often reacts to disagreement as criticism. That—damn. Damn. If she said—if she said __I know that knife is better but I hate the handle__, then maybe—damn.)

(Well, but no, sometimes even that doesn't work, does it; Roxanne has tried that in the past and it hasn't always worked, either—)

(It's too late, now, either way; Dorothy already feels attacked—)

(Roxanne never can get this right. Rose was always the one who understood their mother, who remembers what to say, whose skin doesn't crawl depending on what knife she uses.)

Even with his back to her, Roxanne knows Megamind has raised his eyebrows by the way he tilts his head. "Agreed," he says, his voice very dry. "No, not criticizing. This is—this is a good knife and I don't mind it but __Roxanne does__, so—offering a choice," he says. "Not criticizing, just offering a choice." Not pushing back, just doubling down. Over a knife. Over some carrots.

"Thanks, hon," Roxanne says from the table. __I love you, I love you, I love you__. "You're wonderful."

Dorothy sighs loudly at the sink, mutters again about it not being a big deal, but Roxanne doesn't snarl at her the way she probably would have otherwise (who's the one __making__ it a big deal? who's the one who couldn't just __let me do__ the thing you asked me to do? if you want them chopped with that knife so badly __you can just do it yourself__), doesn't push back, either, doesn't need to. Because Rose reminded her, but also because—someone is actually listening, for once. Someone knows and thinks it's okay that she can't use that—that fucking—

"Mrs. Ritchi, you said earlier, there's a specific way you want these cut? Start in the middle?"

"Oh—yes, thank you," says Roxanne's mother. "Yes, it's—silly, but—"

"I don't mind," Megamind says lightly, and starts in the middle.

Anyway, Megamind gets it. Roxanne doesn't need to explain herself. Dorothy doesn't need to explain herself. Megamind gets it, and Roxanne can breathe.


	9. Chapter 9

Please Google: "HOI 2019 Stephane Lambiel Take Me To Church" and "Stéphane Lambiel Art on Ice Zurich 2014 The water" for ice skating references!

* * *

CHAPTER 9

They take the invisible hovercraft to Pritchard's Pond, which is less "pond" and more "small, frozen-over lake" several miles down the road. Dorothy is initially worried about drawing unnecessary attention, but Roxanne points out that the brainbots are coming too and her boyfriend is blue and the hovercraft is invisible, so—

"All right, all right," Dorothy sighs.

And she does want to see the inside of the flying saucer in her backyard. It's really a very sleek piece of work, all shining steel and glass. Not at all like the blocky, spiky cyborgs that have taken to orbiting her Christmas tree like little barking planets.

(She's warming up to them in spite of herself. They're toasty little creatures. She found the one who calls itself Jeremy snoozing on top of her feet this morning.)

"Oh," she says as the platform brings them into the main cockpit area. "Well this is lovely!"

It's very tightly-packed. There's a double bed in the back, fitted to the curvature of the craft, with shallow stairs descending to some kind of cubby below deck—another bed, she realizes, a narrow single, it looks like. With another cubby below that, if she's interpreting the lay of the land correctly, but the occupant won't be able to exit without climbing over whoever's sleeping in the first cubby. Still, space for four people to sleep in a space this small is no mean feat.

"Is there a bathroom?" she asks.

"Toilet yes, sink yes, shower no," Megamind says. "Also, a kitchen. Double burners and space to seat four at a fold-away table, but no oven, alas. I'm working on that."

"And you access all this down those stairs?"

"The stairs go to the sleeping quarters. You can access the second deck via a hatch in the bottom-most bunk—that's where the table folds down—or from a door in the vertical hallway. We passed it on the way up." He jerks his thumb at the platform, currently locked down level with the floor.

Huh. Well, five adults and a large dog make for very close quarters, but Rose grips the steel bar running around the inside of the dome with both hands and Salim holds onto her elbow with his free hand. Dorothy sits down on the half-moon shaped bed, still looking around.

"Why are there four beds?" she asks, as Megamind settles into what Dorothy assumes is the pilot's chair.

"Because Minion said it couldn't be done," he and Roxanne chorus, and then high-five each other.

"Okay," Roxanne exclaims as the craft hums to life around them. She twists in her chair to peer around at the three other adults, all bundled up in coats and scarves and gloves, their skates over their shoulders. Megamind is borrowing a pair of Rose's old skates. "Everybody in? Bots? Echo?" Salim has a hand on Echo's collar and the brainbots are clustered along the mews rail. "Good," Roxanne says. "We're locked down?"

"We are," Megamind confirms. "External ventral hatch is closing—now. You're clear; take her away, Mr. Sulu."

Roxanne grins, rolling her eyes at him as she lifts her hands to the controls and the spatioproximital matrix shimmers to life above her. "Oh, because Sulu definitely takes orders from Chekhov," she scoffs as they lift off.

Dorothy sits up. "Roxanne is flying? Wait, who—who's flying this thing?"

"I flew all the way here, Mom," Roxanne calls back. "Don't worry, guys, I won't make any sharp turns," she adds. "I know you're all standing."

"Thanks," Rose says, staring around as the silver saucer flickers out of visibility.

"I just really think Megamind should be flying," Dorothy says. "He built this ship, he—shouldn't he be flying?"

Megamind sighs loudly. "I built her __for Roxanne__," he says, enunciating clearly. "The controls are customized to how __she__ processes information, not how __I__ process information."

"I would just feel much more comfortable if Megamind was flying," Dorothy says tightly, staring out at the winter landscape drifting away below them.

"That's because you don't trust Roxanne," Megamind says cheerfully. "Perhaps now would be a good time to start doing that," he adds as they clear a tree-covered slope, and Roxanne banks easily left into the valley.

"What—I trust her!" Dorothy exclaims.

"Lying," he sings. "Or perhaps just wrong. But that's okay, I trust her enough for three people, probably."

Roxanne glances over at him as she eases out of the turn, sends him a surprised little smile.

"What is that?" Salim asks, before Dorothy can respond to this.

"Spatioproximital matrix," Roxanne says. "Re-expresses our position relative to obstacles nearby."

"Ah," he says. "And this thing—can it actually go into space? Is it outfitted for that?"

"Not yet," Megamind replies. "We could, in theory, fly to the moon and back in this thing right now, but we would run out of breathable air. I still need to work out some sort of atmospheric generator."

"What about gravity?"

"We do already have gravity," Roxanne says.

"Do a barrel roll," Rose says, sounding intrigued, and so Roxanne does a neat flip in the air. "Oh, that's __weird!__ You barely even feel it!"

"I love this ship," Roxanne says fondly, leaning forward and patting the flying saucer's equivalent of a dashboard.

* * *

They receive surprisingly few questions at Pritchard's Pond. Most people who seemed confused at the platform descending out of thin air look at Megamind and sort of nod to themselves and then go about their business.

There are a few benches set up beside the pond, near the clear space that serves as access and exit to and from the ice. Roxanne remembers mostly how her ice skates are supposed to feel when she laces them, so she helps Megamind get himself situated. He's wearing two pairs of wool socks—which he says feels weird but not terrible—because his feet are so narrow, which also means Roxanne needs to pull his skates almost as tight as they can be laced. But eventually Megamind says that feels right, his ankles should be supported without cutting off circulation to his feet; he should be okay.

"Good," Roxanne says, moving to stand backwards on the ice, offering her hands to Megamind and pointedly ignoring her mother's warning not to go past the orange cones indicating where it's safe to skate. "Now, hold onto my wrists. Watch how my feet move. Make sure to keep your knees bent and your weight forward."

"Right," he mutters, frowning.

She's really looking forward to this. She's seen how quickly Megamind picks things up, not just intellectually but physically. The time Metro Man flipped some kind of polarity in one of Megamind's devices and gravity in the Lair went all screwy, Wayne's invulnerability was pretty much the only thing that saved him. Megamind, on the other hand, seemed disoriented for about thirty seconds, flailing through the air, and then he got one hand on a grappling gun drifting by and suddenly he was uncatchable, flinging himself across and around the Lair, swinging around beams and brainbots, kicking things this way and that, decoupaging them to the walls and ceiling and floor (especially Roxanne, who he secured to the floor twice) until finally he snapped, "Enough. This is ridiculous. Metro Meathead, I'll be coming at your four o'clock, hit the green lever at your ten as hard as you—well, probably not as hard as you can. Anyway, you jammed it, maybe see if you can un-jam it this time? Yes? Just for evil's sake don't __break__ it, or then I really will hurt you, I mean it."

He had hooked the gun on something, Roxanne still isn't sure what, and briefly become a blue and black blur zooming in tighter and tighter circles around a grounding rod before letting go and slingshotting himself feet-first into the drifting, useless superhero, knocking him backwards into a lever that—

Well, gravity came back. Megamind hit the floor a second later. He had two badly sprained ankles and two fractured tibia, but he sat up and punched the air with both fists and a "Ha __ha!__" anyway.

So Roxanne is pretty sure ice skates will not be a problem at all.

And sure enough, after only a minute or so, Megamind says, "Okay. Let me try—"

Roxanne skates close behind and beside him, and she does have to grab his elbow a couple of times when he overbalances, but he seems to be getting the hang of it pretty quickly. After a few minutes, he's able to coordinate himself enough to actually offer her his arm. Roxanne shrugs to herself and takes it. Skating this close side-by-side with a beginner isn't always a great decision, but—well, it's Megamind; he wouldn't have offered if he was unsure of himself.

They turn a few circuits around the pond with the few other skaters out on Christmas Eve. Neither of them says much, but neither of them needs to, really. It's nice, Roxanne thinks, just being near him in the cold air with the sky all bright snowcloud-gray and the ice hissing under their feet.

A brainbot drifts past her on her left and she blinks and looks around—all five of them have joined the direction of the circling skaters. She grins. "Your bots seem like they're having fun."

"They do," he agrees. "They don't get much opportunity to learn this way in Evil Lair."

"This way?"

He shrugs gently. "Just…acquire new experiences, play around with each other. They aren't understimulated," he quickly adds, "but most of them have duties, various chores and tasks that need seeing to. You remember. Surveillance routines, security patrols, reactor maintenance. They don't have whole days where they can just…play."

Roxanne looks over at him for a moment. "Neither do you, I imagine," she says. His answering smile is small, and doesn't reach his eyes.

She squeezes his arm and then moves away from him a little. "You should play," she says, and something in her tone makes him tilt his head and blink at her. "You should—you should just skate, just play around with it. Just have fun with it."

Uncertain, he shakes his head at her. "Roxanne, I don't—I'm not sure I—"

"We're all just skating in a big circle; that has to be boring for you, isn't it? And there's all that big empty space in the middle, so go for it," she tells him. "I mean, you're never going to see these people again and you're—Megamind, you really are insanely graceful and I want to watch you and I think you could really have some fun with this, so…go see what you can do!"

He blinks, but the bewildered smile that tugs at his mouth at __graceful__ doesn't fall. "All right," he says slowly, and moves toward the middle. As he moves away from her, she notices—he's already skating with his back straight and his feet mostly together. She was right on the money on this one; he is picking this up with his usual alacrity.

__Just have fun with it__, he thinks, __just have fun?__ Megamind's whole life is more or less him having fun, except for the part where it starts to hurt if he stops and thinks about it for too long. But—hmmm. This is an entirely new space, an entirely new way of moving, and Megamind is, at least, good at moving. If not by human standards.

He starts by skating in tighter and tighter circles, clockwise and counterclockwise, and testing the ice with his toe picks, seeing what they do. Then he sort of half-rejoins the other skaters for a while, switching the directions he's facing, skating facing forwards and backwards, picking up his feet, moving his arms in different ways, feeling out his range of motion in his clothes. Learning what happens with his skates as he moves his body, learning what that does to his momentum. Megamind uses everything he has in everything he does; this goes for his body as well has his mind and his resources. If he's going to skate, he's going to use all of him.

And this is—yes, this is fun, Roxanne was right; it's a little like falling without ever hitting the ground and it's a little like flying, especially when he goes fast. The music is interesting—some kind of rock-orchestral group playing carols—and the air moves over his arms and through his gloved fingers like water when he puts his arms out to feel the wind. It's nice. The wind is nice! And the sun is nice too, even though it's behind thin clouds; Megamind doesn't get much sun. He doesn't get to feel the wind much except for when he's fighting or being dragged off to prison.

He is freezing, even in spite of the coat Minion made for him to wear—it's black wool and it has a wide collar so he doesn't have to touch it with his skin; Minion is so good to him—but freezing or no, this is nice. Exciting. Something new!

He's getting pretty good at skating on one foot, now, for all he's so top-heavy. So he extends a leg out behind him as he bends himself forward and down, trailing the fingertips of one hand along the ice with his eyes half-lidded, his other hand still skimming the air. He's not really paying attention to much except the wind and the ice and the feeling of falling and flying and—what happens when he swings his arms around? Ooo, that does fun things to his momentum! He could—his legs, he could swing his back leg forward and land facing the other direction—oh that is fun—he could do that a few times—ahaha—

He lifts his arms and uses them to change his direction, sweeps them around to pull his body around on its toes, to whirl on the knives he's wearing on his feet, using the music as a vague sort of guide to move him, the way he does at home with his soundtracks and scheming.

—if he only spins on one toe, can he—ooo that's even __more__ fun—arch his back and put one hand to the sky and pull the other to his center—take off running again and whirl-hop onto one foot and sail backwards—aaahahahaa—oh the air is __nice__ around his hands—

—if he builds up speed, if he switches the direction he's facing, oh! Oh! If he kicks __down__ with his pick and __up__ with his opposite heel then he should be able to launch himself into the air for real and not just hop—OHfuck—!

Roxanne watches Megamind go from skating in reasonably modest fashion to extending one leg out behind himself and tipping himself over sideways on his other skate to brush his fingers across the ice as if he's been doing this his whole life, what the hell. He brings himself back up again just as suddenly and spins out into the middle of the ice on his toes before taking off again. He carves easily from side to side from his narrow hips, moving his arms like he's swimming and letting them pull his body around; he moves whatever foot isn't on the ice the same way. Testing the waters.

He moves like he's trying to dance with the wind, she thinks, and __god__ but he's pretty; how has she not noticed this before? Striking, attractive, yes; she's noticed __that__, but—he really is __pretty__, whirling himself away into the middle of the communally-defined rink on his own, spinning or whirling on his toes and then skating away with his arms out like sails or wings, almost always only on one foot like the rest of him is weightless, like his toes are all that's anchoring him to the earth, like he's fighting to fly.

And then suddenly he starts going __fast__ and before Roxanne knows what's happening he's __in the air__ and spinning out of control, no grace at all, oh god oh god he's going to fall __so hard__ and ice is __deeply unforgiving__—

Rain Just Singing and Golding catch him and set him on his feet, and Roxanne breathes.

Megamind stands for a moment, blinking, his hands held away from his sides and a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Hey, man, you okay?" someone says, and Megamind just makes a vague sort of thumbs-up motion at them, still frowning intently at the ice.

(Okay, he's definitely trying that again; he wasn't expecting that degree of rotation but in retrospect, it does make sense. And—okay, he'll need to land facing backwards because his weight is going to lag behind his landing foot; if he faces forwards in the landing he'll just fall over. Two and a half—he should be able to manage two and a half—doesn't matter if he misses, the brainbots have eyes on him now—)

Four of the brainbots fall in and circle him at a safe distance as he takes off across the ice again. (87534 is playing with Echo.)

Fast—fast—switch to backwards—leg back—weight towards his inside edge this time and go __into __it from his heel, that might have been part of his issue last time—aaand pick __down__ kick __up__—

—but with his weight like this he's going to land on the outside edge; he hasn't done that yet oh no oh no OH that! was very wobbly! but! he made it!

"__Woooo!__" Roxanne's voice shrieks, and he places her voice and her speed and he spins around and catches her, already laughing, spinning her around and around on the ice with him.

"You did it!" she cries, beaming into his face.

"I did it!" he agrees, exhilarated, heart racing with adrenaline. His smile is far too wide, he can feel it splitting his face the way it always does when he forgets himself, but Roxanne doesn't seem to mind; she keeps her arms around him, keeps her body against him. "I don't think I like those very much, though," he adds, still sort of laughing as he stares into her smile, "I don't think I want to do more of those."

She nods, tells him, "You scared me to death," and presses both her hands to his back. "That first jump, I thought you were going to wipe out for sure."

"I definitely was," he agrees, grinning, "but! that is what brainbots are for. I do like these, though—" He scoots away from her and into a spin as he lifts himself onto one leg, lifts his arms away from his body like sweeping wings as he rotates easily there with one hand to the sky and one to the ice.

"Like I said," he hears Roxanne say, "you are insanely graceful, Megamind."

He pulls out of the spin and whirls down onto both feet again, smiling at her, feeling his nose scrunch a little. He's unused to compliments, and—and her family isn't anywhere near them right now; she must mean that.

"We should go skating in Metro sometime," she says, taking his hand as they set off together again. "When they open the reflecting pool in front of City Hall to skaters."

Oh, then—then she really did mean that, if she wants to—but Megamind feels his smile slip a couple notches. "I can't," he says, unable to fully conceal the regret in his tone. "Supervillain, remember? I'm a wanted man."

Roxanne's gloved fingers squeeze around his much longer ones. "Right," she says quietly.

He glances down at their joined hands and swallows. "What are you doing?" he asks suddenly. "Why did you say yes to this? When Minion suggested it? I'm a supervillain, Miss Ritchi; I am not exactly __spend-a-long-weekend-with__able."

"Oh come on," she says, sounding startled. "That's patently untrue. Look at you now, spending a long weekend with me."

"Yes," he agrees, "this is me __now__. This is not me as you usually see me, so—why did you think this was—I don't understand."

She's quiet for a while but she doesn't pull her hand away. She just skates along at his side, the ice hissing under them until finally, she says, "I've gotten to know you a little bit, over the years. Enough to know you aren't anything like what everybody thinks you are. I like—talking to you, before the cameras start going, and—Megamind if you make fun of me for this I __will__ make Rain Just Singing bite you, but—your kidnappings have become some of the best parts of my week, did you know that?" She looks over at him, already smiling. It's sort of an embarrassed smile, but there's nothing in her face or her tone that would make him think she's making fun of him; she—does she mean that, too?

"They're not supposed to be __fun__," he says, scowling, but Roxanne just laughs.

"Yeah, but you're glad they are," she teases. "Admit it. __Admiiit__ it. You're happy I enjoy them."

Megamind rolls his eyes, huffs a little, but can't stop his lips from twitching.

"I see a __smiiiile__," Roxanne sings, leaning towards him a little.

"Now see here, Miss Ritchi," he says, elbowing her gently—but she's not exactly accustomed to skating anymore; she stumbles and slips and he yelps, "Roxanne!" and yanks her into his side and catches her with an arm around her waist as she flings her arms around his shoulders and hangs on him there, laughing helplessly.

"So much unnecessary trouble, really," he complains as he eases her out of the line of other skaters. "Always so much more of a pain than things need to be, with you."

"I keep things interesting," she agrees, still laughing, still hanging from his shoulders without any indication she's going to put her feet under her, herself. "Kiss me?"

He blinks down at her. There are—so many people—not an unreasonable number of people but still so many more people than—he already has his hands on her, his arms around her, these people are already barely tolerating his presence here and his proximity to one of their number, he—

Oh, whatever. If he gets a chunk of ice to the side of his head for his troubles, well, it won't be the first time. He hauls her up and sets her on her feet, then ducks his head forward and kisses her quickly before backing his whole self away.

Or trying to. Roxanne grabs his arm before he can get too far. "Hey," she says, "no, get back here, I'm not done with you," and she cups his jaw in one hand and puts the other on the small of his back, presses herself against him and pulls him into a much deeper kiss than the ones they exchanged previously today. Her tongue sweeps across his lips and he gasps, but she just hums happily and licks into his mouth, letting go of his chin and wrapping her arm around his shoulders as Megamind loses complete track of where he is and just fits himself to her everywhere he can, aching for more of whatever this is. Nothing exists—not the ice, not other humans, not his freezing toes or his freezing ears—nothing exists but Roxanne. She sucks his tongue into her mouth and he opens wider for her with a small noise, trembling, and she—smiles against his mouth and slowly pulls away. Biting her lip, smiling at him. "Was that okay?" she asks.

What? Fuck, he's supposed to talk? "Muh," he says, blinking, trying for words, wondering vaguely if she'll let him bite her lip for her at some point, wondering what the hell is wrong with him. "Yee."

She shakes her head at him, still smiling, and leans forward and kisses him again, three presses of her mouth—closed and open and closing again, soft and lovely, he—oh—

He blinks his eyes open and stares at her as she breaks away again. Then he jumps a little and looks around, stiffening, but…nobody seems to be…

He glances back at Roxanne, who seems to understand what he's having trouble finding words for. "Megamind, none of them have any idea who you are," she says quietly. "And you clearly arrived with me and my family; they already know you aren't a threat."

He swallows. "But," he says. "The brainbots."

"Three of the brainbots started playing with Echo as soon as they exited the hovercraft," Roxanne says, taking his hand and tugging him to follow her as they rejoin the circle, "and the other two just followed us over and started skating with us. You're fine. I promise."

"Ah," he says, offering her his arm. He's…not sure what to make of that. Really? He—he just kissed Roxanne in full view of everyone here, all these strangers, and—and that __really is okay with them?__ What—but how does that—

(how is he going to fit __that__ into his worldview)

Roxanne slips her gloved hand around his elbow and smiles at him, and Megamind feels like he's going to explode or shatter or tremble himself into a million tiny pieces. How is this real? Outside in the wintertime, shivering under his coat, skating under the open sky with Roxanne on his arm like—

Like he belongs here.

Formless, directionless rage rises in his throat like bile but he chokes it back, chokes it down. It won't do any good. He isn't even sure what he's angry at. He thinks, __what do I want to do__, and his mind shows him: a gun, hidden in the hovercraft, nonlethal but enormous, definitely enough to make these people fear him, flee from him (attack him) the way he knows they should. Re-establish the order he knows. This isn't real; this cannot be real; he cannot be out here pretending like he belongs when everyone can see he doesn't.

He frowns. __No__, he tells himself, __do not be ridiculous. This is nice. We are having a nice time__.

"You okay?" Roxanne asks, and he jumps and looks at her. She glances down at—his hand on top of her hand on his arm. He must have pressed his hand there without—without asking at all, without giving any indication that—

He snatches his hand back, already opening his mouth to apologize, but Roxanne reaches across her body to grip his wrist and place his hand back down over hers.

"It's okay," she tells him. "I was just…you looked upset for a minute there."

Megamind swallows. "Cognitive dissoonance, I think," he murmurs. "That's all."

"Mm," Roxanne says, sympathetic, and places her hand over his over hers on his arm, squeezes gently. "Well. Come on," she tells him, leading him back in the direction of the benches where they left their boots. Rose is already there, unlacing her skates and doing her best to deflect Echo's 'helping' efforts while Salim and Dorothy laugh at her and do nothing to help at all. "Looks like we're getting packed up to go back to the house."

He blinks. "Already? We just got here."

Roxanne laughs. "Megamind, you—wow, you must have really been in the zone, there, huh? We've been here for like an hour and a half."

Megamind pauses, his grip on her hand loosening. Roxanne looks at him questioningly.

"I'll be right there," he says, backing up. "I just—I want to—just a little longer?"

She smiles a little, trying not to let him see the way her heart breaks for him a little. "Okay," she agrees. "A little longer. Five minutes?"

Megamind nods and whirls himself away and back out into the middle of the ice, arms out, legs out, spinning and dancing with the cold wind.

Roxanne watches him with her lip between her teeth and a stone in her throat as she works her laces free and puts her boots back on.

He never gets to do this, she realizes. He never gets to be like this, out in the open, unprotected except for his brainbots. And—and the strange thing is, as delighted as he always seems with his schemes and his plotting—he doesn't actually seem happy, now that she's seeing him in a totally foreign environment. She could be wrong, she's been wrong before, but—Megamind genuinely seems like he's going to miss this.

__Obviously, visibly evil__, she thinks again, and thinks of the sweet way he lets her kiss him, thinks of how he all but moaned into her this last time, and swallows hard as her heart squeezes in her chest.

"Hey," Rose says, coming up beside her. "How come he's still skating?"

"I told him five more minutes," Roxanne says absently, still gazing out at the alien flinging himself in languid sweeping spirals across the ice, under the sky. "He—he never gets to do this, he never—"

Rose slips her arm around Roxanne's shoulders. "Hey," she says again, in a different voice. "You okay? What's wrong?"

"Rose, he thinks he's evil," Roxanne says. "He really thinks he's a bad person. Inherently, I mean. We were talking once, and…it really sounded like he became a supervillain because he thinks it's what he was made for."

Rose is quiet for a moment. "People aren't projects," she warns gently, "you can't fix him," but Roxanne shakes her head.

"I don't want to __fix__ him, he's not a __project__, I just…" She sighs. "I just want him to know he has are other options. You know?"

Rose looks down at her for a few seconds, then says, "Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know you care about him."

"I really do," Roxanne murmurs, her eyes on Megamind, her mind in a whirl.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Roxanne flies them back to her mother's house. Salim tells jokes as they fly with one hand on Echo and the other clutching his wife's arm, Dorothy is quiet, Rose keeps her quiet attention on her sister, and as soon as they land and are disembarking, Roxanne tangles her fingers with Megamind's and doesn't let go. He isn't sure what to do with that, but he isn't complaining; he's happy. As happy as he can be with the knowledge this is all false and temporary in the back of his head.

After dinner, Roxanne pulls him upstairs 'to get dressed,' though for what, he isn't sure, at that point.

"__Church__," she says, astonished, when he gets upstairs to their room with her and asks her why she's getting changed. "Megamind, it's Christmas Eve! We have to go to church!"

Oh. Of course, yes, that makes sense.

Roxanne wears a burgundy sweater and blue jeans. It isn't incredibly formal, she explains, but it is supposed to be nice. It's going to be mostly singing, she says. A brief sermon, maybe, but otherwise mostly singing.

"I can't sing," he warns, but she waves his concern away.

"It's fine," she says, fastening a string of round white beads around her neck. "It's all carols anyway. Go Tell It On The Mountain, Adeste Fideles, O Holy Night. That sort of thing."

These are songs Megamind is…familiar with, if only because he grew up in a state institution, and the separation of church and state in the United States of America is nominal, at best. In principle, if not practice.

"Ah," he says, and, "I have no idea what clothing is appropriate for this."

Roxanne turns, lips twitching. "Not spandex," she says, and he rolls his eyes.

"Yes you know I did rather __imagine__ 'not spandex,' Miss Ritchi," he drawls. "Now come and tell me what to wear, or it __will__ be spandex, and not even my leathers over top of it."

She laughs. "You'll freeze," she says, bumping him with her elbow, "and I will laugh at you the whole time you are freezing," as she turns to give his options a cursory once-over before tugging on a sleeve. "This one. And jeans."

He pauses. The shirt is black. "Not the green one? Black isn't festive. You look festive."

"You're going to be surrounded by strangers in a semi-ritualized environment for which you know no rituals," she says, leaning over the little bureau to fasten her earrings—dangly glass snowflakes that glint in the light—"and black is your favorite. And I want you to be comfortable."

Megamind wrinkles his face at her back. "I'll be more comfortable if I at least look the part," he says, and pulls the green shirt off its hanger. "Did you bring your black vee-neck sweater? The one you started wearing last fall."

Surprised, she blinks at him. "I did. Do you want to borrow it?" He nods, and she passes it to him. It does look nice over the green button-down, Roxanne thinks, and hey, best of both worlds—but suddenly Megamind looks at his wrists and scowls, and starts to shrug out of the sweater. "Hey, no," Roxanne stops him. "Wait, what's wrong with it? You look nice."

"It makes my hands look weird. Black and green and then black again?"

She glances at his hands. The gloves he brought for this trip are much shorter than what he usually wears, but they are black and sort of stark-looking against the green of the shirt poking out of the ends of Roxanne's sweater. "Do you need to wear the gloves?" she asks, and Megamind's head comes up and his expression sort of freezes. "You can," she says quickly, "if you want to. Nothing wrong with the gloves."

He's quiet for a moment, studying her face, breathing. Then he says, "What would you do?"

"Personally? I would keep the sweater, lose the gloves. But they aren't a staple in my wardrobe," Roxanne says. She leans on the bed and cocks her head at him. "Wear both," she tells him. "I don't think it looks bad," but his eyebrows pull together and his lips go thin. He's struggling.

An idea strikes. "Oh! I know. Wait here. __Mom!__" she shouts toward the stairs as she darts away down the hall, "Mom, Megamind is borrowing your Christmas collar chain!"

There's a brief pause, and then Dorothy yells back from somewhere downstairs, "Third drawer down on the left-hand side!"

Roxanne grins and comes hurrying back to the guest room with the collar chain, which is composed of two cloisonne fir trees with little glittery gemstone ornaments on them, connected by two gold chains of different lengths.

"Here," she says, reaching for Megamind's collar, "let me—whoa!" She pauses, hands up, showing him the pins. "I won't touch your neck, I know you said not to. This goes here," tapping her own collarbones, and Megamind settles out of his startled-back stance, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. "Can I? Trust me. It'll look good."

He studies her face for a moment, then lifts his chin and closes his eyes. Something about that, and the way he startled away a second ago, and the way his jaw is set and he isn't breathing—he doesn't want her this close, Roxanne thinks as she carefully fastens the twin brooches to the points of his collar, and her heart sort of twists. It's like telling her about his nuclear reactor, the big one in the Lair—he's making a conscious decision to trust her with this.

"There," she says, turning him to the mirror with her hands on his shoulders and doing her best to sound like she doesn't desperately want to kiss him and demand to know who hurt him so she can hang them from the nearest flagpole by their thumbs. "See? It looks good." She smiles at his reflection, at their reflections. Him with his glittery pins and her with her sparkly snowflake earrings. "And it draws attention away from your hands."

He studies the pins for a moment, His expression is, for once, one she can't read. "It draws attention to my face, instead," he says.

Uncertain how to respond to that, Roxanne just nods.

Megamind's lip curls a little as he turns away from the mirror. "Hm. Not much I can do for that, I suppose," he says.

"Hey." Roxanne catches his hand as he starts to brush past her. She rests her other hand on his jaw and tips his face toward her so she can stare meaningfully from his eyes to the angry sweeps of black eyebrows above, his long nose, his mouth, back up to his eyes again. "I happen to like your face."

His mouth curves into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Well, that makes one of us," he says. And tugs away, heading for the door.

Roxanne's eye falls on the sheet on the dresser, the sheet he asked her to cover the mirror with, and—

Understanding strikes like lightning. Roxanne spins. "Take off the gloves."

Blinking, Megamind turns back around. He doesn't look bitter anymore, just incredibly startled. Roxanne can't blame him; she sounded much sharper than she'd meant to.

Then again—then __again__, she does __want__ to be sharp right now. "Take them off, Megamind. I mean it."

He doesn't move. "We're going to be late," he says.

"No, we aren't, and service always starts like fifteen minutes late on the major holidays anyway," she says. "Gloves off. Now. Take them off and leave them off."

"Roxanne—"

"__Do it__," she snaps, and pinches both her lips between her teeth so she won't cry, squeezes her thumbs in her fists.

Moving slowly, Megamind removes both his black gloves. Passes them to Roxanne when she reaches for them. She stares down at them, struggling, until finally she decides she just isn't going to be able to speak without her voice shaking. "You wear these so you don't have to see your hands," she says, and ah, there's his bitter little smile again. "Don't you."

He shrugs. No point denying it; he's never held any illusions about that fact. Then, because Roxanne is just staring at him and wearing a face he __really__ was hoping never to see on her directed at him, he puts out a blue hand, palm up. "I'll have those back now, please," he says quietly, and Roxanne's face—sort of—crumples?

And oh shit, he must have been misinterpreting her expression because all of a sudden oh fuck oh jeez she's crying? __Fuck fuck fuck__ what did he do this time? What—she asked a question, he answered; now she's crying? Megamind stares at her, horrified and frozen, as she tosses the gloves onto the bed and comes to him and grabs his hands and—

Presses them against her face and cries into them, one on each of her freckled cheeks, the bottoms of his fingers against her eyes.

—so apparently hating the sight of your own skin is not __quite__ as okay as Megamind has been trying to tell himself it is. If this reaction is anything to go by.

Roxanne sniffs hugely and moves his hands to press her lips to the pads of his fingers and then, bending them, his knuckles, crisscrossed with faded scars from years of fighting. Her face is still scrunched down and her mascara is all smudged but she seems to be composing herself fairly quickly, which is a relief. Megamind twitches his fingers to get free and she lets him go, but—

He hesitates, then slowly reaches for Roxanne instead of for his gloves, and he puts his arms around her and pulls her into a hug. (This is allowed. They worked together. He's allowed. She said he has a standing invitation __weeks__ ago; he's allowed to do this.) "I won't wear them if it means that much to you," he says, shocked. "It's—honestly, Roxanne, it's not a big thing, I just—" __Prefer not to see myself if I don't have to__ and yeah, actually, that does sound extremely bonkers and deeply messed-up, now that he's about to say it out loud.

Roxanne hooks her chin over his shoulder and squeezes him harder than he's ever been squeezed in his life, both her fists clenched against his back. "You can wear them," she mumbles thickly. "If you want to wear them, then wear them. But," she says, "I wish you wouldn't. I wish you liked your hands." She pulls away and puts her hands on his face, stares at his eyes. "And I wish you liked your __face__," she adds, with a damp, sort of pleading smile. "It is a __good face!__ It is an __incredibly handsome__ face and—I wish you believed that, too."

Megamind stares back at her, totally thrown. Wait, so—she meant—she means this, then? It's only the two of them, here, so—so she must mean this, and she's __crying__, she __must__ mean this—

All of this is entirely subjective, he knows, but—

—but if somebody believes an entirely subjective thing then it must be __true__, even if only for that person—but—any value of true is significant when compared to Megamind's previous value, which was a big old zero-zip-zilch.

Huh.

"Thank you," he blurts, and she blinks at him, sniffs again. "For believing it. Thank you. I—I'll try. I would like to," he laughs a little, startled to find that he isn't actually lying. He would like to believe it.

Roxanne's answering smile is small but looks sincere. "I'm not the only one who thinks so," she tells him, gulping a little and blotting at her eyes with a tissue. "You should hear some of my coworkers."

"__Roxanne! Megamind!__" Dorothy calls from downstairs. "Where are you two? Five minutes, chop chop!"

Megamind stares at Roxanne's face for a moment. Oh, her—her eyeliner, her mascara, she's—

He—

He spins, grabs the doorframe and leans into the hall. "Rosemary!" he shouts. "Rose, we have a makeup emergency!"

There's a pause, and then the gentle thunder of somebody running up the stairs. "What?" Rosemary says when she hits Roxanne's room. "What's going…oh, come on! Really?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just claps her hands. "Okay! Megs, I need a cup of water from the bathroom. Annie, you stay put and take deep breaths and I will be __right back__."

Roxanne sniffs and sits on the bed next to the discarded gloves. True to her word, Rose is back in under thirty seconds, Megamind trailing behind with the requested water.

"Excellent perfect well done," Rose says shortly, taking it from him and pulling a couple tissues out of the box on the bureau. "Can I call you Megs, by the way? Nicknames are my jam."

Megamind looks sort of blank for a moment, but then he shrugs. "If I can call you Rosie."

She looks at him, then nods once, shaking a bottle of something pinkish. "Deal. And what __did__ you say to my sister? No, don't tell me, it's none of my business anyway. Annie, eyes closed—" She squirts the pinkish stuff onto a tissue and presses it carefully to her sister's eyes, wipes her smudged makeup away like it's nothing. Megamind cocks an eyebrow, impressed. Water on a damp tissue follows this—ah, to rinse off the remover; that makes sense.

Somehow, she already has several tubes and bottles on the bed next to Roxanne. First comes something peach-colored, smeared gently across Roxanne's eyelids, followed by something shimmery and copper. "Transition color goes into the crease and down on the lower lid as well," Rose explains brusquely to Megamind, "and then a darker brown on the outer lid and crease—little bit on the lower lid—and then juuust a touch of muted gold on the inner lids, see? Makes them pop."

"Rose we don't have __time__," Roxanne says, exasperated, but Rose, eyeliner in hand, is having none of that.

"Well you should have thought about that before you started crying," she says firmly. "I learned all this girly crap and now I do it for a living and by God I'm going to make it your problem," half-laughing as she finishes up with the eyeliner.

"Navy blue?" Megamind asks.

"Compliments the coppery eyeshadow and highlights her blue eyes."

"Huh."

"Also, matches her boyfriend!" she adds, grinning and uncapping a bottle of mascara. "Annie, eyes up for me—aaand—done! Good enough." She looks at Megamind. "What's my time?"

"One minute and twenty-three seconds," he says promptly, and she flashes a wide smile.

"__Damn__, I'm good. Okay, you two, seriously, come on, we gotta go."

Megamind leaves his gloves on the bed. He isn't entirely comfortable without them, but Roxanne's reaction was enough of a shock that for now, at least, Megamind wants nothing to do with them until he reassesses how he feels about the whole issue.

Roxanne blows her nose. "Megamind didn't say anything bad," she says as she follows the other two down the stairs to the front door. "He just thinks he isn't pretty."

Rose pauses at the bottom of the stairs, her coat already in her hand, and glances back up at Megamind. Her expression says she knows that's an oversimplification of the issue. "I get that," she says, quirking an eyebrow at him and reaching up to pat his elbow. Then she keeps moving, calling over her shoulder, "But I guess I can't blame you, after all, Annie; that __is__ a crying shame. He is __very __pretty."

"Right?" Roxanne says.

"Okay, all right, I get it!" Megamind exclaims, grabbing his coat out of the closet and following the two women out the door to the waiting car, glad it's dark so nobody can see how hard he's blushing.

* * *

Dorothy drives them out to the church, on the opposite side of Bozeman. The elderly minivan handles the snowy roads surprisingly well, but Megamind doesn't spend much time thinking about that, or the dark scenery outside, or the way trees and hills give way to houses and lights.

Most of his attention is focused on Roxanne, sitting next to him in the dark in the back row of seats. Megamind is sitting by the window, and—Roxanne could have sat by the other window, with the narrow middle seat open between them, but—she sat in the middle seat and she's leaning against him, her head on his shoulder, both her hands wrapped around one of his. She did ask if it was okay for her to sit so close.

He still isn't sure why she keeps asking if he's okay. As if she could somehow overstep a physical boundary where Megamind is involved.

Seriously, he is going to __gut__ Minion as soon as he gets home; this trip is doing nothing to help Megamind's fixation. If anything, it seems to be getting worse. Every time Roxanne touches him, his skin feels like it's __glowing__. And the more contact he gets, the more he wants; it's going to be a serious problem when they fly back home to Metro City tomorrow night. The thought is—uncomfortable. Makes his stomach feel like a pit, like he's swallowed a stone. He—this—

This place is so unfamiliar, and Megamind is convinced he's about to mess everything up somehow, but—

Roxanne is holding his hand. Nothing bad can happen to him if Roxanne is holding his hand.

Actually, maybe he could—if he tried—oh, he shouldn't, __he shouldn't__ this is __bad __don't do this—

Megamind wiggles his fingers to get his hand free. "Can I…would you mind if…?" He pulls his arm out from between them and carefully places it over Roxanne's shoulders instead. And she hums happily and curls into his side! Victory!

"You should do this inside, too," she tells him. "Your arm around my shoulders."

He cocks an eyebrow. "No hand-holding in church?"

Roxanne snorts. "No, it's just—we'll need our right hands for shaking hands with people."

…Huh. That's. Something Megamind wasn't anticipating. "Somehow I don't think I'm going to run into that problem," he says dryly. Roxanne's head moves on his shoulder as she looks up at him.

"I don't know," she says lightly. "You might be surprised."

"So might you," he returns, ever the pessimist when it comes to physicality. "Roxanne, nobody is going to want to shake hands with me."

"I did," Rosemary says over her shoulder from one of the middle seats.

"What's that?" Dorothy calls back, as Megamind is trying to think of a way to refute this. He was wearing gloves at the time, but—maybe that isn't—as much of a factor as it used to be? In school?

"Megamind thinks people aren't going to want to shake his hand," Roxanne says, raising her voice a little so her mother will hear her.

Dorothy makes a scoffing noise that can be clearly heard throughout the car. "Oh, don't be ridiculous! Of course we'll introduce you."

Megamind settles back in his seat, disgruntled. "Bet they won't," he mutters.

"Bet they will," Roxanne mutters back, gently mocking, and sticks out her hand as she leans just far enough away to send him a challenging grin.

Megamind tries to glare at her and fails miserably, laughing in spite of himself. "Fine," he he says, shaking the proffered hand, "fine. Maybe I'll be surprised," and Roxanne makes a pleased little humming sound and leans back into his shoulder.

So, this is. Becoming a bigger problem than Megamind was anticipating when he agreed to this trip. He wasn't expecting Roxanne to actually be okay with touching him more than absolutely necessary to make her family believe she likes him, but she honestly seems to be __enjoying__ this.

What he should do, he knows, is start pulling away. He's pretty sure she won't follow him or ask for a reason; she keeps asking if he's okay like if he says he isn't, she'll back off. He should distance himself, put space between them. He is already obsessed with this woman; allowing himself to hold her this way is probably the worst thing he's ever done.

But—she's __happy__. And it isn't as though he's hurting her. And. He really does feel horribly bereft every time she moves away from him, his side suddenly cold where her warmth was pressed against him, and if she doesn't __mind…__

(Could he do this in Metro, he wonders. Go to her apartment and wait for her there. Sit with her. Could he maybe—would she let him?)

(No. No. That's too much. He can't force himself on her like that; it wouldn't be right. And she wouldn't want to see him as much as—if Megamind opens those floodgates, there will be no coming back, he knows.)


	11. Chapter 11

Going home for Christmas means maybe seeing your childhood friends! It also means potentially running into your childhood bullies. Anyway, poll time! Has Megamind watched Mean Girls, yes/no?

Roxanne's experience with pep rallies was the experience I WANTED to have: hiding somewhere quiet until it goes away. Mostly what I got instead was a bad headache, the desire to stab anyone who touched me during or after, and the desperate need to hide under a quilt when I got home.

* * *

CHAPTER 11

Church does not get off to a promising start.

Overall, Megamind is proud of the minute or so he keeps himself together in this building surrounded by humans he doesn't recognize, unarmed. The open space of the lobby when they walk in is loud and crowded, people on all sides, all of them turning to look at Megamind. He immediately squares himself even as he wants to shrink away to nothing, make himself unseen; there are—so many people—all of them talking—

But Dorothy exclaims, "Helen!" and another woman turns, looking around for her friend, and bursts into a sunny smile.

"Dory," she says, sliding through the crowd like it's nothing the way humans always seem to, "oh, wonderful, you made it! Rose, Annie, so good to see you again; gosh, it's been a while! And this is—"

"Megamind," Dorothy and Roxanne say in unison, and—

Helen smiles at him, eyebrows up, hand already swinging forward as she says, "Wonderful! Welcome! So good to have you with us!"

Megamind blinks, his hand on Roxanne's shoulder already stiff. He does shake hands, though, and he manages a smile that he thinks probably is only a little too wide. This isn't—this is—

It's loud and it's close and—so many voices in this not-very-big space, words happening on all sides, so many conversations and someone's laugh rings out like a physical blow and it all comes together into a feeling of being squeezed. He used to be able to do this, used to be able to grit his teeth and put up with it, calculate fractals in his head and blank himself in the school cafeteria, but this is—this is more like the roar of voices in the gym before a pep rally, he thinks, and he used to hide out in the bathrooms for those; the sound level of so many voices and so many bodies is impossible. Fractals won't work; he can't just ignore it, he can't __stand__ it; it—hurts like being squeezed by a pine tree or something similarly stickle-prickly, he doesn't—this isn't—

Roxanne puts her left hand over his on her shoulder, and—

Ordinarily Megamind would thrill at this, but he jerks his hand away, snaps it back. It's one input too many. Maybe he could have braced himself with a warning, but—sudden? No. Not here, not in this space, not on top of so many voices pushing in on him from all sides.

Roxanne turns and blinks at him. Megamind tries to smile at her, tries to Be Okay—he can do this he can do this, just outlast it, outlast—but that's right exactly when someone in an exceptionally puffy coat brushes past on his other side like knives across his skin and he twitches away with his whole body, hands coming up to shield himself. And then farther up, to press down over his ears, but that still doesn't help with the physical presence of the crowd on all sides.

"Mom," Roxanne says loudly, "we're going to go grab our seats; we'll see you inside."

Dorothy looks surprised and she's saying something, talking, but Roxanne just motions for Megamind to follow her, holding out a hand to see if he'll—shake his head at her; that's okay. She can work with that. She turns and parts the crowd with a series of "excuse me"s and "sorry, can we just, thanks"es with Megamind on her heels until they reach the doors to the sanctuary. It's dimly lit with candles on all the windowsills for Christmas Eve, and while people are still talking in here, the ceiling is higher and the room is bigger and the whole space is much, much quieter.

Roxanne still remembers where her family used to sit, down on the right-hand side of the big space, near the aisle. "Is here okay?" she asks, as Megamind slowly lowers his hands and inhales.

Yes, here is okay. Mostly okay-ish. He'd prefer to be closer to the wall, but if he can sit next to the open space of the aisle—

"Where would be better?" Roxanne asks, because she is the smartest and also the best person Megamind has ever met, and he turns and heads for the seat farthest from the aisle, closest to the wall and the window. He needs one side open, at least, one path clear to the window if the worst should happen with the crowd, or he won't be able to relax.

He glances back at Roxanne and cocks an eyebrow, and she nods at him. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah, this sounds good to me." She sits down, leaving space for Megamind at the end of the pew. He remains standing for now, turning around to lean back against the back of the pew in front of them and tip his face to the ceiling and breathe into the cooler air of the sanctuary for a few seconds, gripping the pew with both hands on either side of his hips.

He's okay. That was just. A lot.

After a moment, he straightens and bends his head forward with a sigh. Roxanne is watching him with an expression he isn't sure how to read.

"Not big on crowds, huh," she says when he looks at her, and Megamind feels his ears go hot with embarrassment.

"No," he says, his voice low. "No, I am—not big on crowds."

She nods. "Me, either," she admits. "Not if they're like out there, anyway. Not like that. It's funny, because I really do like being around people. Even if it is stressful, after."

Megamind squints at her, shakes his head.

"I always overthink afterwards," Roxanne says. "Like—oh, back there, I didn't say goodbye to Helen or anything. I should have said something, at least waved, but I tend to forget myself if I'm someplace loud like that."

He blinks. Was that—not as humiliating as he thought it was? "You also wanted to leave," he says, uncertain if he's interpreting her correctly.

"Yeah." She stretches a little. "I could have stayed longer, but that was __way__ busier and noisier than I was expecting and I was not enjoying it." She pauses, then asks, "Do you want me to give you some alone time? I was leaning on you pretty hard in the car, was that…?"

Megamind shakes his head. "No," he says, turning and sitting down. "No, you're not a contributing factor."

"Are you sure?" She peers at him, looking concerned. "You still seem…jittery."

He is, but not because of her. "If I need you to leave me alone, I'll tell you," he says. "Maybe don't touch me right now, but you don't have to leave. Just. Talk to me? You…also have trouble with crowds?"

"It depends on the crowd," Roxanne says, after a moment. "It also depends on what I'm doing and how much energy I have to devote to interacting. If I'm in a group and everyone is talking, I can just stand still and not really participate. I can hold out for a while like that. But I will eventually lose the ability to parse language until I can get somewhere quiet. Someone can shout what they're saying into my ear and it's still all just…noise." She shrugs. "Other times, even if I'm one-on-one with someone and they're talking in a crowded room like that one, I can focus __really hard__ and keep listening to them…but past a certain point, I will have a hard time responding coherently."

Megamind is quiet for a moment. Then he asks, "Did you enjoy pep rallies when you were in school?"

"__Fuck__ pep rallies," Roxanne snaps, suddenly scowling. "I __hated__ pep rallies. Stupid __fucking __Spirit Week with its stupid __fucking__ extra loudspeaker announcements—there was this whine when the speakers were on, and __god__ it was the __worst noise __I've ever heard in my life—and they always had us do this stomp-clap thing at the rallies themselves. Which would have been fine, except we were stomping on collapsible metal bleachers in the gym, so it __crashed__. It felt like getting kicked in the teeth. I used to hide in the bathroom. I'd sit on the back of the toilet with my feet on the seat."

"Me, too," Megamind says, amazed. "I—me, too, I did the same thing. Hiding in the bathroom stall until it was over. I thought I was the only one who hated them."

Roxanne snorts. "Oh, you were not the only one, trust me. I only knew a few people who actually liked them. Most kids just put up with them, or got into the spirit because they didn't feel like they had much of a choice. But one time, my science teacher figured out where I was going and she started checking the bathroom…so I asked one of the janitors if I could bribe her to leave one of the closets unlocked for me, and she very quietly told me she already left one of the bigger storage rooms unlocked during rallies. The next month, I went to go hide there and I found two other kids in there, just reading."

"Really," Megamind says, and she nods.

"Megamind, can I say something," she says abruptly. Wary at her shift in tone, he nods. "I…kind of get the sense that you think you're some total weirdo. You are honestly not that weird."

He frowns. "I feel weird," he says. "All the time."

"So do I," Roxanne says. "You aren't the only one. Actually, I think that's probably totally normal, for you. You're literally from another planet; of course you're going to feel it sometimes." He stiffens, but there's no mockery in her tone, no teasing. "But I'm __from__ here, and I sometimes still feel like I don't fit. I've carved out a good place for myself and I'm good at hiding it, but…I still…" She trails off, sighs.

He studies her for a moment, then turns his hand palm-up on his knee in an ask. Roxanne slips hers into it, her fingers fitting easily into the spaces between his strangely thin ones, which Megamind curls down over the back of her hand. "Two other people were in that closet," he says. "You aren't alone in not fitting."

She smiles a little. "What if one of them was you?" she says. Further down the pew, Rose and Dorothy are making their way in. The sanctuary is filling up. "What if that was how we met? I'm sure I would have seen you around, but…"

Megamind is quiet. "You were how old? For this?"

"Seventeen or so."

He shakes his head. "You wouldn't have liked me. Not that anyone ever did, but," he continues when she opens her mouth to argue, "by seventeen I was putting a lot of energy into being deliberately unlikable. It wasn't entirely their fault."

To his surprise, she tightens her grip on his hand instead of withdrawing and asking what was wrong with him, why would anyone do that. "We should have gone to elementary school together, too, then," she says. "Maybe then you wouldn't have needed to."

__Needed to__, he thinks, startled. Not 'felt like you needed to,' not 'thought you needed to,' just…'needed to.'

Huh.

"Didn't you want people to like you, though?" she asks.

Still sort of preoccupied with her acceptance that he was only doing what he had to do, that his self-isolation must have been a necessary evil, he tells her the truth. "Of course. But nothing I did ever made any difference. I was never…able to hide it, I suppose? Not like you learned to. Eventually I simply gave up. Embraced what I was meant to be." He sighs. "Lost cause now, I'm afraid."

"Have you embraced it?" Roxanne asks. Megamind just cocks an eyebrow.

"My dear Miss Ritchi, I am a wildly successful supervillain," he says her, sounding surprised that she would question him. "I have held Metrocity clenched in my leather fist for nearly nine years now. That length of time is unprecedented for a city the size of Metro." He smiles thinly. "My destiny would seem to be pretty obviously embraced, would it not?"

She's quiet for a moment. Finally she says, "I like you. I think you're likeable."

He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. "Yes, well. There's no accounting for taste."

"And I don't think you're a lost cause," she says. He laughs at that.

"The first time I was told I was a lost cause was age three," he scoffs. "Trust me, I've __always__ been a lost cause."

"So, I tuned into this conversation at a weird time, but—are you serious?" Rose asks, leaning around Roxanne and blinking at him. "That's awful," she declares when he nods. "That's seriously harsh."

Megamind shrugs. "I was a seriously difficult child," he says. "Harsh it may have been, but it was not untrue."

Rose blinks again, then pulls back and looks at Roxanne. Megamind can't see her face but he sees her shake her head a little, and he sees Rose's eyebrows go up and her mouth do a thing Megamind knows means __yikes__.

He has just enough time to brace himself when she reaches around behind Roxanne to pat him on the shoulder a couple times before turning back to her mother and striking up a conversation about the evening's order of service.

Huh, he thinks again.

"Good evening," says a voice from the front of the room, and the congregation murmurs back, __good evening__, and Megamind sighs and turns his attention forward.

Church is…has never really been his thing. He used to attend Sunday services with his Uncle Guduza because it made Guduza happy, but the prison always placed a little too much emphasis on __repent ye sinners__ for Megamind's personal tastes. But he's pleased to find this is different.

Roxanne wasn't kidding when she said the service would be mostly singing. A group of people at the front of the church sing something called __Gathering Carol__, followed by a welcome from the pastor to guests and parishioners, followed by a few verses of __O Come All Ye Faithful__. And then the congregation is bidden to sit or stand as they are able for the affirmation that __love is the spirit of this church and service is its gift; this is our great covenant: to dwell together in peace, to seek the truth in love, and to help one another__. And to Megamind's—and apparently also Roxanne's—surprise, they launch straight into __el amor es el espíritu de esta iglesia, y el servicio es su ofrenda__—

That's a nice touch. And not a bad affirmation overall, if bizarrely nondenominational considering the massive wooden cross behind the altar.

They remain standing through three of the older carols, __God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen__ and __Hark the Herald Angels Sing__ and __O Come Emmanuel__, and aha, that's more familiar. Megamind doesn't sing—Megamind can't really sing, which rankles as it always has—but he's content enough to listen. The congregation must sing a lot in their services; there's a surprising amount of harmony going on. Roxanne's alto blends well with Rosemary's tenor, and there's a bass behind him. A soprano with a decent vibrato makes herself known on a sort of descant on the __gloria__s from two or three pews back, which is right about where you want that sort of soprano to be. So, he's in a good spot for listening.

And then there's some talking on the subject of grace, which the pastor acknowledges is usually viewed as more of an Easter-y subject, but he quotes John 3:16, and ah, aha, yes, that makes sense. And he ties it in and talks about remembering why they celebrate, in recognition of the demonstration of grace, and then it's "Please sit or stand as you are able for number 146 in your blue hymnals—"

146 turns out to be __Joy to the World. O Holy Night__ follows this, and then—then there's a period of time during which the congregation is instructed to remain standing as they greet their neighbors. Megamind goes totally stiff when the man in front of him turns around, but the man just smiles and says, "Earl. Merry Christmas."

"Ha ha ha," Megamind says, shaking his hand because apparently that __is__, in fact, a thing that's going to keep happening, gloves or no gloves, and then quickly clears his throat and says, "Megamind. Yes, the same for you."

"Roxanne? I thought that might be you!" says a voice, and Roxanne turns to peer around Megamind at the woman in the aisle by the window.

"Panambi!" she exclaims. "I wondered if that was you back there. Oh my god, you cut your hair!"

"So did you!" Panambi says. "It looks really good!"

"Yours, too," Roxanne tells her. "This is my boyfriend, Megamind," she adds, and Panambi smiles sunnily and—shakes his hand, because of course she does, what the hell?

"Good to meet you!" says Panambi.

"Panambi was one of the other kids in the janitor's closet," Roxanne explains, for Megamind's benefit.

"Ah," he says, because some answer seems expected of him. "Yes, fuck pep rallies, worst of all high shool gauntlets."

"Megamind used to shelter in the bathroom," Roxanne tells Panambi, who nods knowingly.

"Back of the toilet, feet on the seat," she says. "Fuck pep rallies, indeed; high five, Megamind." Which is __also__ a thing that happens. "Hi, Mrs. Ritchi!" Down the pew, Dorothy waves hello. "And—um?"

"You remember my little sister, Rosemary," Roxanne says.

"Hallo Panambi, nice hair," says Rose, turning and waving. She had been greeting someone off to her right.

Panambi blinks up at her, startled. "Oh! Hi! Hi, yes, sorry, I do remember. You—right! Good to see you again, how are you?"

Rose grins. "Doing great! Got married, got a dog, trying for kids, living my best life."

"Oooo, lucky," Panambi says, as the pastor's voice from the front calls for their attention. "And good luck on the kids thing; fingers crossed and prayers for you! Coffee after service? Anyone? Anyone else down for coffee and chatting after?"

"Heck yeah, coffee in the fellowship hall," Rose says.

Roxanne nods, too, and rolls her eyes. "Ma's going to want to talk for forever, yeah, coffee sounds good."

"I like coffee," Megamind says, and Panambi beams at all of them and then hurries away to her pew.

"I wondered if that was her," Roxanne says as she edges past Megamind back to her seat. "Singing back there."

And then there's more sermon, this part on the subject of art versus scripture, how the Nativity is usually portrayed visually versus the way it would have been. How the nativity was basically rock-bottom circumstances, the equivalent of a mother giving birth in a parking garage behind a motel, how important it is to remember to withhold judgment, how glory rises anywhere.

It's. Not bad. It's nice.

And then there is __more singing__, because of course there is, but Megamind stays seated and ponders where he fits in the whole…picture. Bible-wise. By the time the singing is over and the blessing is finished, he hasn't come any closer to figuring it out.

Ah, well. He wasn't really expecting to.

They do go down to the fellowship hall after the service, because they only took one car and that's where Dorothy is headed, and also because Panambi promises it will be a lot less crowded than the lobby was. Most people do seem to be trickling away home, at this point, so Megamind figures it's probably safe. Besides, this Panambi person seems slightly less daunting than most of the other people Roxanne has been introducing him to. Slightly more interested in conversation, which means—oddly—easier to talk to. The hardest part of a conversation has always been the tail end of it, where Megamind needs to try and figure out how to excuse himself; brief introductions are nothing but hellos and goodbyes. He's not a fan. Conversation, if we must; small talk, no thank you.

Brief introductions also contain no room for wit or banter. Talking is much better.

The fellowship hall is in a basement room with tables along one wall and little clusters of chairs and tiny couches scattered throughout. The three of them get coffee out of big steel drums with little spigots, and some festive red-and-green decorated cookies, and then they retreat to a circle of chairs from which Panambi is waving. Roxanne startles halfway there and quickly excuses herself, promising she'll be right back.

Which leaves Megamind with Rosemary. But that's okay. Rose is okay. He's known her for less than a day and a half but she's okay, and Megamind is fine and not at all feeling suddenly adrift and anchorless.

He puts his untouched cup of very bitter coffee on the table in front of him and curls up in one of the chairs with his feet under him, trying to focus on the cookies instead of the way he's sitting with his back to the room. He's. Mostly successful.

"So," says Rose, "Panambi. How's your—aunt? No, your grandmother, right?"

"Grandma, yep. Still going strong, but she fell a couple weeks ago, so she's taking it easy for now."

"Oh no!" Rose exclaims. "Really? I met her at Annie's graduation; she seemed so solid."

Panambi grimaces. "I mean, she is eighty-six now, so."

Megamind blinks once. __Falling__, he thinks. Elderly humans falling, humans with balance issues falling, humans with mobility issues—Roxanne's mother said taking care of the horses was getting too difficult—

"I could reengineer the intergravitational harmonizers from two years ago into a device to mitigate the effects of gravity on an upright human," he says, and the two women turn and blink at him.

After a moment, Roes says, "Less gravity has a negative effect on bone and muscle density; maybe just have it kick on if they start to fall?"

Megamind blinks a few times. "Different settings," he says. "Different—but if her joints are bad in general, wouldn't this help? A low-impact lifestyle. Or. Something. I—I need to—look into this. More."

(It's not very villainous, but…well, Roxanne was clearly friends with this woman; surely it can't hurt to do one good deed, can it? Of course not! He can build this thing and go right back to his daily villainous grind. Yes.)

Panambi looks taken aback. "I, I mean…could you? Do that? Because that would be amazing."

Megamind shakes himself. "Certainly I could," he says, sitting up a little. "Absolutely definitely yes! Is your grandmother interested in being a test case?"

"I'll have to ask," Panambi says, rummaging in her purse for a moment and coming up with a spiral notebook and a pen. "Hang on, here's my information…" She scribbles something down, tears off the sheet, then hands Megamind both the sheet and the notebook. "Can you give me your contact info? So I can let you know what she says? I'm sure the answer is yes, I just…you know. Need to ask."

Megamind nods despite his misgivings at giving a near-stranger access to any of his information. A moment later he hands the pad back.

"Thanks," Panambi says. "Even if it turns out to be impossible, thank you for offering. This isn't the first time she's had a fall, and…I worry."

Rose leans forward and addresses Megamind. "What all happened with the intergravitational harmonizers?" she asks. "I don't think I remember that plot."

Megamind rolls his eyes. "They weren't part of a plot," he says, waving a hand. "I threw them together to add to my collection of potential failsafes after my __illustrious__ counterpart ran his massive butt into the lever operating the Lair's graviton displacement equalizer."

"Ah yes," Rose says, clicking her fingers in recognition. "You decoupaged my sister's chair to the floor."

"Yes, and I nearly broke both my ankles kicking Muscles McChin back over to the lever," Megamind grumbles. "I did mean it when I said he was massive."

Panambi makes a noise, and he glances over at her. She's staring at her phone, wearing an expression fading from shock into something approaching horror. "Is this accurate?" she asks, turning it around so Megamind can see the photo of himself in full villainous panoply glaring out from the phone's screen.

He goes tense, stomach twisting at the look on her face. It's an expression he's familiar with; he's even used to it. It's one of the usual expressions people wear when they're looking at him and not screaming. But Panambi was smiling at him just a few seconds ago, and—it stings more than he would have expected.

"It's true?" she says, when he blanks his face and lifts his chin, defensive and proud. "You're—actually a supervillain?"

"He's a sweetheart, is what he is," Roxanne's voice says from behind his shoulder, and he jumps. "Legs down, Megamind; I require lap time. Okay?"

Startled, he looks up at her even as he puts his feet on the floor and lifts his arms so Roxanne can sit on him and turn sideways in the chair, her knees over one armrest and her back against the other, a cup of coffee in each hand. "Here," she says, handing one of the cups to him, "this one's for you; I just needed to run to the kitchen and throw it together in the microwave. You won't be able to drink the other one, it's going to be way too bitter."

She—

Oh, she made him coffee? That's where she went? She realized he wouldn't—so she—

This seriously is not helping him get past his fixation on her. It has to fade eventually, doesn't it? It has to. He can't stay obsessed with this woman for the rest of his life; that would be ridiculous, but…

(He wants to kiss her, but that's not new. Megamind wants lots of things he can't have.)

(Well, but—he is her 'boyfriend,' now, isn't he? He could kiss her. He could. He wouldn't have to ask.)

He carefully settles his arm around her back and she hums and rests her head on his shoulder, turning a little to grin at her friend. "Panambi, he's harmless, really," she says, as Megamind bends his head to press his mouth softly to her hair.

"The article said he kidnapped you," Panambi says uncertainly.

Roxanne snorts. "Kidnapped, past tense? Kidnaps. On a regular basis. Almost weekly. It's how we met!"

Megamind straightens and blinks a few times, her words finally settling in past the haze of surprised pleasure that she would take the time to go and make coffee for him, just—just because she could, just because she wanted to.

"Harm—I am not harmless!" he protests, affronted. "Not harmless, harm__ful!__ Full of—harming! Causing harm! I am—"

"—very dangerous and scary, yes, my love, I know," Roxanne says, smiling up at him in a way that makes his heart trip on a beat. "Maybe someday you'll succeed in actually frightening me."

He scowls. "You were scared," he says, wagging a finger at her as best he can from where his arm is curled around her shoulders and doing his best to hide how he thrills at her smile and her calling him __my love__. "You used to be scared of me."

"Until I realized you're a total marshmallow," Roxanne laughs, and shifts around to get a little more comfortable. "Yes, I used to be scared, and then came the time that I fell and you __panicked__."

"Didn't panic," he mumbles into his coffee mug, his ears going hot.

"You screamed my __name__," Roxanne tells him, "you __definitely panicked__. That's when I figured out my role as recurring damsel-in-distress wasn't in any danger. I mean, I already sort of knew, but that's when I __knew__-knew. It's like…oh, like catch and release fishing, you know? You don't eat your business partner."

Panambi's expression clears. "Oh, I get it," she says. "This is sort of like a bondage thing, right? You have an arrangement."

Roxanne wiggles a hand in midair as Megamind chokes on his coffee. "Eh, sort of? I guess?" she says. "It wasn't so much an arrangement as…as an understanding. At least not until we started dating." She grins. "__Now__ it's an arrangement, yes."

Panambi nods, relieved. "Oh well __that's__ fine then," she says. "You had me worried for a minute there! Plus also he seems totally smitten with you, so I mean, even if it is Stockholm Syndrome, you're probably good."

"You okay, love?" Roxanne asks, turning to look at Megamind, who's having a small coughing fit. He nods.

"Roxanne and Panambi, good lord, it's just like old times!" says a voice, and Roxanne sort of twitches in Megamind's arms. Panambi sips her coffee, her expression souring.

"Sherena," Roxanne says, sounding less than enthused. "You made it home for the holidays, how nice."

"Had to let the parents meet the fiance," says the woman who's appeared between Roxanne and Rose's chairs with her hand on the arm of someone tall and blonde who is, presumably, the fiance.

"You, too, I assume," said fiance adds, glancing at Megamind.

"That's the idea," Roxanne agrees. "Boyfriend, in my case, but we'll see how it goes."

"Jeez, Roxanne," Sherena says, wrinkling her face, "was the barrel empty, or what?"

"Barrel," Roxanne says.

"Yes? Barrel? Bottom of?" She rolls her eyes. "I know you're on the rebound from that long-term hottie you were with, but you didn't have to drop your standards __completely__."

"Brain trumps brawn," Roxanne says coolly. "I think he's a step up."

"Mkay sure, I guess."

__Ah__, Megamind thinks, __she's one of the nasty ones__. He looks her up and down with a careful eye.

"You like what you see?" Sherena says, arching an eyebrow. "Your girlfriend is in your __lap,__ don't look at me."

"You are marrying him for his money," says Megamind, who left high school behind years ago but who is more than willing to go back if necessary to kick the adults who never left in the shins.

"A long and time-honored tradition," she says, her voice chilly. "But I also happen to like him, so it works out. Best of both worlds."

"Unfortunate," Megamind says, "because he doesn't __have__ money." He cocks an eyebrow and curls his lip, mimicking Sherena's expression, one of the other standard non-screaming reactions he's familiar with. "Your choker is not Tiffany; the stamping is misaligned and I can see solder on two of your chain links from where I'm sitting; it's subtle, but it's there. Your bag is similarly counterfeit—look at the straps, look at the hardware; there's no way that's Balenciaga—and the stitching on your jacket is off two shades, so either it's also a knock-up or it was marked down for product flaws." He glances down. "Your Atwoods are the real deal," he admits, "but they're fully nine years out of date. Maybe you just like them, I don't know. But I do know the ring on your finger isn't a diamond, it's a moissanite; you can tell by the way it refracts." He gives her another unimpressed once-over. Doesn't say anything about the phone she's holding, doesn't mention the way the screen is facing him. "Your boy has an eye for quality, I'll give him that. They are __nice __counterfeits. I'm thinking either gambling debts or stock market losses."

"Hey, what the fuck," says the fiance.

"Then again," Megamind muses, tilting his head and turning his attention on the fiance, "maybe he's just cheap. Shoes are Armani, slacks and blazer are both Gucci and tailored to fit. Not sure about the sweater but it's definitely new; Burnt Ochre was one of Pantone's colors for this season."

Sherena's smile has gone bright and brittle. "I think you meant knock-__off__, there."

"Freudian slip," Megamind says. "Either way I would hate for you to go into this without both eyes open." He raises his other eyebrow and nods at her. "Better move quickly on whatever heart-to-heart you need to have, though, with the little one on the way."

"What the __fuck!__" Sherena snaps, rounding on the boyfriend. "Willet, you said you got snipped!"

"His name is __Willet?__" Megamind says, frowning.

"Let's have this discussion in the car," Willet says. "You better watch your back," he adds, glaring at Megamind.

Megamind arranges his face into its very widest Cheshire Cat smile. "I've killed bigger men than you," he says easily, all teeth and flashing eyes. "But you should be thanking me. She's cheating on you."

Sherena's jaw drops. "How did—it was one time!"

"Was it?" Megamind asks, cocking his head and shifting his tone high and skeptical.

"Fine, twice," she snaps, "but they were ages ago and we were on a break."

"If you say so," Megamind says, still skeptical. "Who is Langdon? I assumed he was you," he says to the fiance, "but if you're Willet—"

"Seriously?" Willet says. "You're __seriously__ meeting up with your ex to—"

"Oh do __not start__, Willet, you told me this was a diamond!"

"I'm here to meet your parents!"

"You __told__ me it was your __mother's!__"

"Maybe take this somewhere less public," Megamind suggests blandly, and Willet storms off.

Sherena watches him go, shaking her head. "Asshole," she mutters. Then she glares down at Megamind. "Screw you," she snaps. "And why the fuck are you blue?"

He snorts. "That's the best you can come up with? Yikes."

"Oh my god, Sherena, you can't just ask somebody why they're blue," Panambi blurts as Sherena stalks away after her potentially-ex-fiance. Sherena half-turns and tries to flip her the bird, but Panambi is laughing too hard to notice.

Megamind settles back in his chair. "And that's why you wouldn't have liked me in high school," he concludes to Roxanne, who is staring at him and seems to be struggling not to laugh. "Picture that, but all the time, to…pretty much anyone who made eye contact with me."

Her lips twitch. "That wasn't nice," she says.

"Please. I'm a supervillain; I'm allowed to be petty and mean."

"Okay okay yeah sure," Panambi says, "but that was ridiculous, __how__ did you know all that?"

Megamind shifts uncomfortably. "I notice things," he says with a sharp little shrug. "I notice a lot of things. Granted I am not sure about the baby—that was to get under their skin—and I have never __personally__ killed anyone, but the rest of it was true enough." He grins. "I run a fairly sophisticated counterfeiting operation in Metrocity. I know my fakes."

Roxanne blinks at him. "What? I've never heard of counterfeiting in Metro."

"You wouldn't; our street operations aren't local and most of our sales take place online." He sounds very pleased. "But I take care of my workers. Happy labor means nobody wants to blow the whistle."

"Workers," she echoes, surprised again. "Not brainbots?"

"Employees," he confirms. "Human employees. Benefits are good, starting salary is a living wage indexed to median rent within the city proper, sick days are on the honor system, and employees start with three weeks of paid vacation." He shrugs. "So far, no one has felt the need to tip off any of the actual manufacturers. We—"

Dorothy appears behind Roxanne out of nowhere and bends down. "Nathan says he hasn't met your boyfriend yet, __go introduce him__," she says quietly, as Roxanne startles and snaps forward.

"Mom," she protests, twisting around in Megamind's lap, "I barely visit and the only reason I'm here at all is because it's Christmas; I really don't think they __need__ to meet."

"It's what's __done__," Dorothy insists, straightening. "Annie, really."

"I am visiting with my friend who I haven't seen in forever and it's loud up there," she says flatly. "No."

Dorothy rolls her eyes. "At least sit in a chair like a normal adult," she says. "You're in church, for heaven's sake."

"Hell's more fun," Roxanne says sharply.

"I'm not here to start a fight," Dorothy sighs, "god, you always get so __defensive__. It's just a chair; it's not a big deal." Someone calls her name and she turns and waves, says, "I'll be right back," and hurries away.

Panambi raises her eyebrows. Roxanne just glares straight ahead, shaking her head a little, squeezing her thumbs.

Every time. Every. Time. No matter where she is or what she's doing, it's wrong somehow.

"I see she hasn't changed much," Panambi says quietly.

Roxanne pulls a long breath in through her nose. "I am just trying to live my life," she says, too lightly. "And somehow, no matter what I'm doing, she always manages to identify exactly how I'm doing it wrong. I guess I was supposed to introduce you to Pastor Nathan while we were upstairs; sorry, Megamind."

He shakes his head. "It's a good thing you didn't," he says. "I might have some…awkward questions for him. Or cause him to ask some awkward questions."

"At least you're not overdressed," Rose offers dryly, and Roxanne snorts.

"I do tend to overdress for things," she says, in response to Megamind's questioning look. "Especially if I'm not sure. It's…I just feel safer that way. Better overdressed than underdressed, right? But Mom always used to either have me get changed into something else, or she'd spend the whole time wherever we were going worrying—loudly and repeatedly—about my outfit. We got in a really big fight about it once." She sighs. "When I was a kid, it was always about matching. My socks don't match my shoes, my pants don't match my blouse. I was a __kid__."

Megamind pats her hesitantly on the shoulder. Honestly, he isn't sure what else to do. "That…was one benefit to growing up in prison, I suppose," he says. "Rocking the orange jumpsuit day in and day out."

She laughs a little and finally relaxes a little, leaning against his chest, her head on his shoulder. "Is it okay that I'm sitting on you?" she says suddenly. "I didn't really ask. You would tell me if you minded, right?"

He puts his arm around her back. "I would tell you."

* * *

When they get back to the house, Salim is shrugging into his coat, getting ready to take Echo for a walk. "Oh, hey," he says as they come in. "Anyone want to come with? Megamind?"

He hesitates, but nods. A walk in the dark with a dog and one human sounds…nice. Might give him a chance to clear his head a little, might give him a chance to calm himself from the heat in his blood that came when Roxanne sat on his legs, in his arms. So he stays in his coat and waits for Salim to finish putting on his scarf, and he takes the flashlight Dorothy hands him, and he tries not to break in half when Roxanne carefully pecks him on the lips, and then he and Salim head out into the cold.

They walk down the driveway and out onto the road in companionable silence, Echo ranging ahead on her extendable leash to smell the smells and pee on whatever she feels needs peed on.

"I don't need the flashlight, if you don't," Salim says, a minute or so into the walk, and Megamind turns it off. The moon isn't full but it's getting there, and even this far from town or any neighbors, the landscape is bright enough for them to see their shadows clearly.

They head away from town, crunching up one of the rolling hills. There's a river down behind Dorothy's house and a much sheerer cliff face behind that, but this hill isn't terribly steep. It's wooded, but the trees are bare and the snow is clean, and Megamind can see his breath as he breathes.

"Can I ask where you're from," Salim says, after a while, and Megamind glances at him.

"A star you call T Pyxidis," he says. "You can't see it from this far north."

Salim makes an interested noise, then asks, "What do __you __call your star?" and then, when Megamind trills a word in his throat without opening his mouth, he says, "Huh. My family is from Turkey. My grandparents are in İzmir, that's where my dad grew up."

Some kind of response seems expected, so Megamind says, "This is a bit different from İzmir, I imagine."

Salim laughs. "A little," he agrees. "A little. But I grew up in Chicago, so it's not so weird for me. You want weird for me, you come visit me and Rose in August. Talk about heat."

"I don't…do well in heat," Megamind says carefully. "My body temperature is low, compared to yours. I overheat easily."

Salim glances at him. "Well, maybe just visit us in March, then. We're in Los Lunas. Little town south of Albuquerque."

Megamind turns and stares at him, surprised. "You're kidding. My uncle Harold is in a prison work camp there."

"Get out!" Salim grins at him. "The one just off Rt. 25? Crazy. It's a small world."

Megamind nods. "Uncle Harold got me started on Fischer esterification," he says.

"I used to know what that is," Salim says, shaking his head. "It rings a bell. Echo, no. Leave it."

"Acid-base reactions," Megamind says. "Organic chemistry. It's, um. Useful for certain kinds of weaponry in my line of work."

"Ah, yes," says Salim, diplomatically, and they both fall silent and continue up the hill.

The air is cold but there isn't much of a breeze. The night is dark and still and silent, broken by breathing and the sound of three sets of feet hiking up the road.

"So," says Salim, after a couple more minutes. "You and Roxanne."

Megamind takes a deep breath. "Yes," he says. "Me and Roxanne. Believe me, no one is more surprised to find me here than I am."

"Why's that?"

He swallows. "Well, I kidnap her," he says, only a little bit unsteadily. "Repeatedly. Frequently. And—and yes, we talk before I start the Evil Plot, sometimes. She gets along well with Minion. You know," he says, "that's why I chose her? In the beginning? Thirty-six other humans, some of whom I also kidnapped multiple times but none of whom ever…well, and…and then I found Roxanne." He smiles wistfully. "She was amazing. I told you all yesterday, I knew she was special six kidnappings in?" At Salim's nod, he shakes his head. "No. Four kidnappings. She was already doing well," he quickly adds, "but four kidnappings is when she proved herself.

"The fourth kidnapping was when Minion would come in—to give me a tool, make an adjustment…something of that nature." He heaves a sigh, shoves his hands into his pockets. "She looked at Minion, and—and I remember, she blinked once and then she just—she __scowled__ and she said, 'Oh, __damn__, I've forgotten your name! It's not Henchman. Crap. I'm so sorry; help me out, here?'"

Salim blinks. "Okay," he says slowly. "And this was unusual?"

"__Completely unprecedented__," Megamind says fervently. "Salim, you have to understand—Minion and I have done our best to keep him as out of the public eye as much as inhumanly possible. Most people in Metro City don't even know he can talk!" He shakes his head again. "His existence isn't much of a secret, but…for Roxanne to see him, and to immediately speak to him that way…" He trails off. "None of the others did that. Not one. At best, they didn't speak to him at all."

Salim squints at him. "Sorry, I'm missing something. For her to speak to him…what, normally?"

Megamind stops walking and looks at him. "Minion is a fish," he says, motioning in the air in front of his chest, "about this big. He pilots a robotic exosuit via a neural implant," tapping the back of his own skull, "here. The exosuit is shaped more or less like a gorilla." He pauses to give Salim a moment to imagine this. "Roxanne treated him as a person. From the __very beginning__. She was looking at __him__ when she asked his name, not at me."

Echo comes trotting back at this point to see why they've stopped moving, and Megamind rubs her ears and sinks his cold fingers into her ruff as she leans against his legs. "She was amazing then and she has been amazing ever since," he says. "I wasn't kidding about the Invisible Car. She did some serious research on that; she must have. And she—she seems to really care about her work, and her life, and—me. She really does seem to care about me." He swallows hard. "I am," he says, unevenly, "so, __so__ lucky. To have her in my life. I don't know who I would be if I had never met her, but…I am sure I wouldn't be nearly as—as happy as I am today."

He pinches his lips together to keep himself from saying any more. He can feel himself getting close to the thing (one of the many things) he tries to avoid thinking about.

This would all be so much easier if he loved her. Then he could say he loved her, and he could pine for her, and it would be okay to do that—because love is a fine thing, love is beautiful. Requited or otherwise. Or so he's been told.

He's pretty sure he isn't capable.

None of his feelings towards Roxanne have matched anything he's read. He had no love-blindness, no starry-eyed months where she could do no wrong. He just…

She's part of him. Is all. In a way he can't articulate. She is in his thoughts every hour, her name is in his mouth every day. He's pretty sure she's written into the bones of him, at this point; he's pretty sure he'll never be able to turn from her.

That isn't love. Megamind doesn't know what it is, but it isn't love. Obsession. Fixation. Love is supposed to be unmistakable; people know when they're in love. It's supposed to be like lightning. This is—he doesn't know what this is. He would know if it was love.

He swallows and starts walking again. "How did you and Rosemary meet," he says, and Salim lights up.

"She was walking Echo," he says. "Who was a little fuzzball at the time. And she asked me for directions and I had no idea how to help because we were both totally new to Los Lunas. But we got to talking and then she said, hey, are you on your way to anywhere, do you want to walk with us, and—I did actually have an appointment, but the room I was renting was pretty close to where we were, so—well, anyway, I started walking with her and Echo in the mornings. And one thing led to another, and here we are."

Megamind blinks. But if Echo is three, then… "How long have you been married?" he asks.

"Two years ish," Salim says. He shrugs, grinning. "Sometimes you just know, you know? I knew she was it for me two weeks in. We just clicked." Then he laughs. "And it turned out we had more in common than either of us realized."

"That's wonderful," Megamind says quietly.

Salim tips his head back and releases a low whistle as they come out into an open space on top of the hill. "Look at that," he says.

The night is clear and Dorothy lives pretty far outside Bozeman; the stars are bright and distinct. And numerous. This is more stars than Megamind has seen in one sky since he was an infant hurtling through the void between them; Metro City has far too much light pollution to show more than Venus and Sirius and a couple of the major constellations.

Seeing so many again is…deeply, viscerally upsetting in a way he wouldn't have thought to anticipate.

He doesn't realize he's made a noise until Salim asks, "Hey, you okay?"

He doesn't move. Absently, he replies, "The last time I saw this many stars, I was eight days old and I had just watched my planet disintegrate into the gravitational vortex of a collapsar."

"—Oh," Salim says. "Um. Wow, that's…awful. Do—"

"Today might have been the anniversary of that," Megamind realizes, frowning. With all that's been happening, he hasn't had time to dwell on it the way he usually does on the 25th. Hasn't had time to really even think of it. "Maybe yesterday. Faster-than-light travel is…it makes time difficult to keep track of."

Salim doesn't reply immediately, and after a moment, Megamind blinks and tears his gaze away from the starry dome above him. Salim is staring at him.

"Um," Salim says again. "Do you—that's terrible, I'm—God, I'm so sorry, do—do you need a hug?"

"I'm fine," Megamind says.

Salim swallows. "Do you __want__ a hug?" he asks, and Megamind's gaze sort of flickers.

"I wouldn't say no," he says slowly, so Salim hugs him. Hard.

Salim's coat is very puffy, which means Megamind can sort of drag his hands in it. His fingers are too long to really clench as tightly as he'd like to, but this works. This is—nice, actually. He didn't really talk about the whole black hole thing, growing up. Didn't really realize how it affected him until later. By the time it occurred to him to even refer to it as trauma, he had other concerns.

Huh. So—this is a hug from another adult who isn't Roxanne. Salim has known him less than two days and he's…comfortable? hugging? Megamind? That isn't—

—and the people at church this evening didn't just tolerate him; they seemed genuinely unbothered about him. Interested, yes; he attracted stares, but the only familiar expression he saw was on Panambi, and only after she Googled him; nobody else looked at him like—

—no. No no no. He needs to think about something else, now, because he can already tell this is going to hurt. What's done is done. He made his choices; there's no going back and there's no sense regretting any of them now.

(He is so very, very tired.)

"Come on," Salim finally says, stepping back and gripping Megamind by the arms for a moment. "Let's head back."

* * *

__MetroImperative: Hey  
MetroImperative: So I think your plan is working  
MetroImperative: Roxie just called and she had some pretty extreme hypotheticals to ask me  
MetroImperative: Minion? Earth to minion come in do you read  
MetroImperative: Miiiiinionnnnnnnnnm  
MetroImperative: HEY  
__****FantasticFish: WHAT  
****__MetroImperative: hey sorry how would you feel about quitting villainy  
MetroImperative: yeah in retrospect that was an essay question sorry  
__****FantasticFish: i am not sure how to put this  
FantasticFish: I'm not sure what  
FantasticFish: okay that's an extremely loaded question and I'm not comfortable putting my response in writing, can i call?  
FantasticFish: but I think my feelings can be summarized thusly:  
FantasticFish: ?!  
****__MetroImperative: That's fair  
__****FantasticFish: ?explain?  
****__MetroImperative: Roxie called. wanted to know if, HYPOTHETICALLY, I would be willing to lend a hand if it turns out the little guy wants to quit supervillainy  
MetroImperative: and so i was like, look  
__****FantasticFish: ...essay time for you too huh?****  
__MetroImperative: yeah you know what, call me when you can, this will be easier over the phone  
MetroImperative: some of it is kinda heavy__


	12. Chapter 12

this was a tough chapter to write for a lot of reasons, but I think I'm happy with it

* * *

CHAPTER 12

The evening gets worse before it gets better.

Megamind abstains from the board game Dorothy brings down from a shelf in the closet; games are very rarely entertaining for him, and he feels—strange. Colors are too bright around him, speech takes too long for him to parse. He slips his hands back into his coding webs, instead, to continue working on the source software for his next battlesuit.

He stares into the middle distance, moving his hands in front of him like he's conducting an exceptionally twitchy orchestra and ignoring everything around him while the gathered humans lay a fire in the fireplace and set up a card table and folding chairs. He barely notices when the music starts—a mix of Christmas carols playing quietly on Dorothy's elderly sound system behind the sofa.

But eventually he does notice how extremely warm he is, and he finally lowers his hands and looks around. "Why light a fire?" he asks, after trying to think of a reason and failing to come up with anything plausible. "You could play at the kitchen table much more easily."

They blink at him. "But fire is nice," Rose says. "We'll have a bigger one outside later, we always do on Christmas Eve, but why wait when fire is nice?"

"It smells good," Dorothy adds, "and I like the warmth."

Megamind frowns. "The house was warm already."

He isn't wrong. Roxanne's childhood home is not large, and the little living room is not so much warm as stuffy, in his opinion.

"You could open a window, if you're too warm," Roxanne says. That's kind of her, Megamind thinks vaguely.

"No." Dorothy shakes her head before Megamind can respond. "I'm not paying to heat the outdoors."

"The fire will more than make up for any lost heat," Roxanne tells her, but she holds firm.

"It is December," she says flatly. "The windows stay closed."

Megamind stands. "I think I want a shower, anyway," he says. He feels…weirdly cut-loose and adrift, still. Maybe a shower will help ground him. "May I borrow a towel."

Dorothy nods. "The linen closet is at the top of the stairs, give a shout if you can't get the shower to work. Be careful not to slip."

"Thank you," he says, and heads upstairs to gather up his pajamas and his spare undersuit to bring into the bathroom with him.

He has no trouble getting the water to start running. He has a little bit of trouble getting the shower to kick on, but he manages it in the end, and then he is in the shower, under the lukewarm spray, just…

…sort of existing there…

…and trying not to think about where he is or everything he did today, and failing miserably.

He is feeling more like himself. That's not surprising; water almost always helps him with that. He is himself and he is wet, and the lights are the normal amount of brightness and there are no stars here, and all of this means he can inhale and feel real again.

This is so much more difficult than he was expecting, and he can't even really explain why. It's—

He is bad. Evil. He knows this. He has made his peace with this and he does his best not to think about it as much as possible. He throws himself into his work with everything he has, commits himself totally and fully, and he works and he works and he works __so hard__ and at the end of the day he's asleep before his head hits the pillow. This is for the best.

But now he's here. In Montana, where nobody knows him. And they all—the humans here are all, __all __of them, they're treating him like—

—like he's normal.

Or, not __normal__, but certainly no worse than they would treat a human who looks wrong and says the wrong thing and smiles too wide. Roxanne's family, okay: he can understand if they would want to treat him well. They have a vested interest. But the skaters today, and then the people at church after, and—and he's in the shower now and he can't—he can't.

He rinses as quickly as he can and then he turns the water off without luxuriating under it the way he ordinarily would. He's—

Frantic and out of sorts and—

Today was full of new and fun things but today was also too much. Far too much. He can't. He dresses quickly in his undersuit and pajamas, and then he brushes his teeth. This is all too much; he can't deal with this; he's going to bed. Except—

When he opens the bathroom door, he hears raised voices downstairs. One of which belongs to Roxanne, and Megamind forgets all thoughts of bed because what? Roxanne yelling why? Roxanne upset? No. Absolutely not. He heads for the stairs, trying to listen, trying to figure out what's going on.

* * *

"Well, Annie, he seems nice," Dorothy says, after the shower has been running for a couple of minutes.

Roxanne doesn't look up from her cards. "Thank you," she says. "I think so, too."

"All the same, I do wonder if you've entirely thought this through," Dorothy continues after a moment, and Roxanne sits back in her chair and looks at her.

"Today was nice," she says. "Can we not do this?"

"Do what?" Dorothy asks. "I'm trying to have a conversation."

"No, you're questioning my decisions and making me doubt myself, again." She shakes her head. "I know that isn't your goal, here, Mom, but that's where I am with it. Okay? Can you please just leave me alone about my relationship status, already?"

"This is not about your relationship status," Dorothy exclaims. "Annie, this is about your relationship, itself! He—"

"Then leave that alone, too!"

"He is a __supervillain__," Dorothy says, despairing. "I really think I'm entitled to some concerns."

"Entitled, yes, but I do not __give __a shit about your concerns!" Roxanne snaps. "I am done hearing about this! You wanted me to date someone; I'm dating someone. I have known him for years and I love him dearly and I wish you would let it __go__ already!"

"I'm __worried!__"

"I don't __care!__" Roxanne says. "You're __always__ worried! __Always! __You're the boy who cried wolf of worries and I'm done hearing about your wolves! The way I clean carrots is wrong, the knife I like is wrong, the way I sit is wrong, __where__ I sit is wrong, I talk to the wrong people at church, the way I fly a flying saucer is wrong, I'm dating the wrong person! I've __had__ it! __Enough!__ I'm done!"

Dorothy takes a deep breath. "You have had a long day," she says. "But I really wish you wouldn't take everything so personally."

"This __is__ personal!" Roxanne cries. "This is personal, this—this is __my life__ that you're constantly finding things wrong with! And—and stop acting like I'm also wrong for being upset!" She throws her cards down on the table and stands up, angry tears in her eyes. "You—you pick me apart over __every little thing__ and then tell me I shouldn't feel hurt—well guess what, I __am hurt!__ I __know__ you're just worried and I __know__ you mean well but you are __hurting me!__ And I need you to __stop! Please!__"

"It's just carrots, Roxanne!" her mother snaps. "It's carrots! It's a chair! It is not a big deal! But this, this dating-a-supervillain business, this is a __problem__ and it __scares__ me that you don't see it and won't listen!"

"Goddammit it is __not just the carrots!__" she cries. "It's __everything!__ Everything, all the time, constantly! I can't drive in the snow, I can't make my own travel plans, I'm still not looking to own property, I'm not saving enough in my 401K, I'm not married yet, the time I spent helping __my friend__ when I didn't want to date anyone anyway is time wasted __because__ I'm not married yet! The part of town where I live is dangerous, cutting my hair is risky for my job prospects, the way I dress is too masculine but that skirt I wore the one time you saw a broadcast was too short, my sweater is too small for me, my interests are boring and I shouldn't talk about them at work, I'm friends with the wrong people! I'm naive and I'm being taken advantage of and I don't know how to live my life the way I __should!__

"And, and I __hold __my tongue and I __try __and I __try __to nod and smile and let it go, but it-it __never ends!__ It never __ends!__ I'm not a __child!__"

"I know you aren't!" Dorothy protests. "I know you aren't a child; I am only trying to help! You __know__ you aren't very socially aware!"

"What are you talking about?" Megamind says from the doorway, aghast. "Not very—yes, come here, hugging, yes," he says as he steps forward and opens his arms so Roxanne rushing in can shove her face against his shoulder and cry. "Not very socially aware," he repeats, staring at Dorothy with his arms around Roxanne and his fingers in her hair. "I do not have any idea what you're talking about! Roxanne is—she is socially active, she has friends, she has a good relationship with her coworkers, she—she is __good__ at social! How—you don't see her often, maybe that's why you don't know, but—Roxanne does not need help socially."

Dorothy sighs. "Megamind, you don't know her like I do—"

"And __you __don't know her like __I__ do!" he says, patting Roxanne's back with one hand and gently fluffing her hair with the other as he stares at Dorothy in indignant offense. "It is __almost __as if she has a __whole life__ outside of either of us! Amazing!"

Dorothy scowls. "I don't think I deserved that."

"Think what you want; we're going to bed," Megamind says flatly, because he is More Than Done With This Nonsense. He might not be one hundred percent on what exactly this nonsense is, but he knows he's done with it. He tugs on Roxanne a little and she lifts her head and heads for the foyer and the stairs. "Ciao ciao all!"

He is too angry to listen if anyone calls after them. This is ridiculous. What on earth did Dorothy pick at this time? Something specific, or was it just one thing too many?

Roxanne yanks several tissues out of the box on the bedside table and blows her nose. "Do you need to be alone," Megamind asks, because he is more than willing to go and sit in the bathroom until Roxanne feels human again, even if it takes all night. But she shakes her head.

"No," she rasps. "No, I just—I just need to cry—I'm so __mad__—" She wings the tissues at the little wicker garbage can with its plastic grocery bag, misses by a mile. And then she reaches for Megamind, who blinks.

But he goes to her. She's reaching for him and there's truly nothing else he ever wants to do except go to Roxanne. He pulls her into his arms and she wraps her own wonderfully warm arms around him, and she chokes, "Can—I—cry on you," and she is __ridiculous__, she's __still__ asking if he's okay, what even the heckity heck.

"Yes of course," he tells her, squeezing her close and fluffing her hair, "of course you can. Would you like me to call Minion? He isn't here, but he has a very calming presence, even over the watch."

She hiccups something that might be a laugh. "No," she whispers. "No. Just you. I'm so-so tired, I'm __so tired__, she __always__ does this, always—" She gulps and rests her head on his shoulder again, her eyes and the bridge of her nose in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. "Sor-sorry," she adds.

He blinks. "Why?" he asks, turning his head to rest his cheek on her temple. "Why sorry?"

"Never-never wanted you—to see this," she chokes. "She didn't—it wasn't even a big __thing__, I just—everything today, everything, the knife and the huh-hovercraft and Pastor Nathan and I-I __can't__, I can't do __anything right!__ And-and Salim's never seen me like this and everybody thinks I'm crazy now and—and—"

He wants to kiss her forehead, stroke her back. Would that be weird, he wonders. There's no one to see, here. No viable reason for him to do more than hold her. Even the hair-touching feels like a deep transgression, but she said last night she likes having it fluffed. God, he wants to tell her he loves her and have it be true. He wishes it was.

"—I usually have such good control—" she gasps. "I'm usually—I see it coming, I take a break! I back off and I don't-don't __get __ove-overwhelmed but with __Mom__ I just—she gets in under my radar and I can't—I just __lose__ it, every-every time, and—"

"Roxanne," he says, keeping his voice low, "you do not lose it every time."

"I __do__, I do—I just go __off__ and she doesn't __deserve__ it, I—"

He tightens his arms around her. "You didn't do this with the knife," he says, "and you didn't say anything about flying the hovercraft. You didn't say anything when she said not to go too far out on the pond. You didn't shout at church." He shakes his head, runs his fingers through her soft hair. "Roxanne, you made your frustration clear about the carrots and at church earlier," he says. "Even I could tell you were annoyed. And…she still kept picking at you. What was it this time?" he adds.

Roxanne sniffs. "You," she mumbles. "Me dating you."

Megamind blinks. "Oh. Well…she is…not wrong to be concerned about that," he says carefully, and Roxanne sniffs again and nods frantically.

"I know!" she exclaims. "I know that, I know she—you __are__ a supervillain; that would be alarm-alarming for any parent, but—" She swallows hard. "I just," she whispers, "I couldn't take it. I couldn't do it anymore."

He frowns. "I think that's reasonable," he murmurs. "Roxanne, I don't think you're crazy. I think you're—trying your best to make everyone happy. Go with the flow, don't make a scene." He pauses, then adds, "And I think you can't win?"

Roxanne seems to have a hard enough time just keeping herself from snapping at her mother. Rose seems able to mollify Dorothy through gentle phrasing, but if Roxanne is already struggling to not shout at her, then expecting her to use kid gloves when she's already in pain about it is—unreasonable.

"Do you mind if I turn off the light and we lie down," he adds abruptly, because one, fake boyfriend is supposed to say if he needs something, and two, he's reaching his limit and won't be able to stretch himself for much longer, input-wise. "I—today was—a lot. For me as well. It—"

There's a knock on the door and Rosemary's voice says, "Hey, it's me, can I come in?"

Roxanne sniffs hard and opens the door, already shaking her head. "I can only deal with one person right now," she says flatly, shoulders still hitching, voice too high.

"Oh—or I can go," Megamind offers, thinking maybe she wants to talk to Rose alone, but Roxanne shakes her head harder.

"You-you're the one-one person I can deal with," she tells him over her shoulder.

He blinks. "Oh," he says again, surprised and trying not to think about the warm little glow that flares under his sternum at that, trying not to think about the odd little pulse that stabbed through him when he heard her say __I love him dearly__ as he came down the stairs trying to figure out what was going on.

Rose just smiles a little. "That's okay. I just wanted to come let you know, Mom has agreed to drop the Megamind thing, because Salim talked to him earlier and Salim is magic, I guess. And we're going to light the bonfire in about a half hour or so. If you two want to come down later, you're both welcome."

Roxanne nods. "Maybe," she says. "Thanks. And tell Salim thanks."

"Hug?" Rose asks, but Roxanne shakes her head. "Okay. Well, I love you. See you maybe later."

"Love you too," Roxanne says tiredly, and closes the door. And turns off the light. She's still fully clothed, but she rolls into bed anyway and Megamind crawls up behind her, wondering if—yes, and she curls immediately into his arms.

Does—can she really—actually like him? Find comfort this way? This is not an act; he knows she has no energy to maintain an act right now. And anyway, who would she be acting for? This is real. She really actually wants him to hold her.

Fine by him. He just feels terribly guilty about how badly he __wants__ to hold her. How good it makes him feel that she wants him this way, when she's feeling so awful.

"This is __stupid__," Roxanne chokes, and pulls a deep but very shivery breath. "She's my __mom__. And, and I love her—and I __know__ she has my back—she just, she doesn't—I'm trying __so hard__ to be what I'm supposed to, and—"

"And it hurts," Megamind says quietly.

"And it __hurts!__" Roxanne agrees, her voice cracking. "Being corrected! I'm __trying!__" She sniffs hard. "And—and I always feel terrible because—she's so good about the big stuff—when I brought my first girlfriend home for Thanksgiving I __knew__ she'd be fine and she was—and when Rose came home and said __Mom I'm trans__ she didn't even hesitate, she just said __name changes are a pain in the butt, let me know if you want help__—and—"

Megamind snorts. Roxanne manages something like a very tearful, self-conscious laugh. "God," she says, "you must think I'm such a spoiled brat—"

His arms tighten around her. "I think nothing of the sort, Roxanne."

She shakes her head, mumbles, "Ugh. Need-need to calm down. It's all such lit-little stuff."

Megamind splays his fingers carefully over her back. "Many little things added together equals a big thing," he says, his voice gentle. "That's just basic math. And I think you may need to let yourself feel it," he adds. "Vent some pressure."

(he's being deeply hypocritical, right now, but it's fine. he's different. these rules don't apply to him.)

"But I'm getting your pajamas all gross and damp," she mourns, and Megamind actually finds himself laughing.

"My dear Miss Ritchi," he says, speaking low and warm, "my pajamas have seen much worse, believe me."

"And you're sure-sure you don't mind," she says.

He moves one hand from her back to cup the swell of her skull, presses gently. "I wish you weren't sad," he says. "But if—if you __are__ sad, then—I want you to be sad on me. You aren't costing me anything."

He's surprised to find, as he says it, that it's actually true. Now that it's dark, and he and Roxanne are alone, he feels…calm, almost. Safe. He feels…not okay, not yet, but getting there.

He moves his fingers through her hair again. "It's okay," he tells her. "Little things pile up into a big thing. You can be hurt. Angry. You can let yourself cry."

Roxanne shoves her face down against his chest and sobs. Megamind holds her tight and pets her.

__I love you,__ he wants to say. __I love you, I love you, I__—

He has to tell her, he realizes. He has to. Not that he loves her, but—the details of his feelings toward her. Whatever they are. He doesn't even have words for some of them, but he'll have to try. He can't keep doing this, insinuating himself into her life and __enjoying__ __it__ like some kind of monster.

He swallows. Not now. She has too much right now for him to add to it. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Christmas first, let her have the time she needs with her family, let him give her the gift he made for her. The gift he made this month, not—not the other one. He can't even really believe he brought that shameful thing with him; what the hell was he hoping to accomplish with it? Ugh. __You hopeless, hateful alien__, he thinks at himself.

Yes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will explain everything, lay himself completely bare in front of her and let her make of him whatever she will. For now…

For now, he can let himself have this. Can't he? He's in too deep already; he might as well just swim down. He'll be fine. If she never wants to see him again, wouldn't that be easier? He'll leave her alone if she wants him to, he will, he __will__. But that's tomorrow; for now he can pretend he really is hers, he can pretend he loves her and he isn't just __wanting__. He isn't just obsessed and fixated and incapable of letting go. He can hold her and stroke her hair and pretend.

Eventually, Roxanne's breathing evens out, and eventually she does sigh and sit up. Megamind slides the hand that was in her hair down to her back, allows his other hand to slip down and rest on his stomach. "Ugh," Roxanne says. "Bleh. I'm. I'm so sorry you had to see that."

Megamind looks up at her. "Why?"

She scrubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Guh. I don't know what happens to me, when I…I know it's not that big a deal, I just…"

"You told me, before we even came, you don't respond well to needless attempts to control you. It was too much."

"But she's my __mom__," Roxanne sighs and reaches across him for a tissue so she can blow her nose again. "I should be able to laugh it off, by now. I'm sorry you had to deal with me when you were already tired."

He sits up, shoves himself up on his hands and glares at her, indignant. "I am not __dealing with you__," he says sharply, and she looks at him. "You aren't—this was not a hardship for me," he tells her. "I am not here because I have to be, or, or out of pity, or—because of the fake boyfriend thing—I just, I—wanted to do this."

She blinks at him in the dark, then gives him a wobbly smile and puts her hand over his on the bedspread and squeezes. Megamind swallows.

"And I meant it," he adds. "I think this was reasonable. I think pointless corrections are a reasonable thing to be upset over. I would tell you if I thought this was—stupid. It wasn't stupid."

"Thanks," she whispers.

"I—have your back, too, Roxanne," he says, because it feels important to say this, even if it also feels seriously unsafe to say, "I know we—our relationship isn't—conventional. Supervillain and kidnappee isn't—but I do, I have your back, I am—on your side. Whenever you need me."

Roxanne stares at him for a second, and then she bites her lips together and wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him hard. "Thanks," she whispers again, sounding a little bit choked, "thank you, Megamind, I—same. For you. Okay?"

__You say that now__, he thinks. But he puts his arms around her, too, and presses his hands to her back. "Thank you," he says. "Okay."

Then he clears his throat. "I am less tired now," he says. "Your sister mentioned a bonfire? Do you want…?"

Roxanne gives him another quick squeeze and then pulls away, nodding. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah. I think I do. And we can come back and go to bed whenever. Lights on? Or leave them off?"

Megamind shakes his head as he stands and stretches. "Leave them off. I'm just going to stay in my pajamas."

He does reach unthinkingly for the gloves on his nightstand, though, and—then he pauses and glances up at Roxanne. "Gloves?" he asks. "No gloves?"

She just smiles at him, a little sadly. "You should put them on," she tells him. "You'll be cold."

He'll be cold anyway, even with the gloves; his gloves aren't protection from the cold. And. He still needs to think about the whole gloves thing. Does he need them anymore, really? He probably doesn't need them. It's just nice to look down and not have to see blue, sometimes.

He slowly drops his hand, and something happens in Roxanne's expression, at that; he isn't sure why or what it is. But all she says is, "Okay," and she sends him a soft smile. He cocks his head, wondering what that's about, but she doesn't seem like she's going to explain.

"Let's go down to the fire," he says, questioning, and Roxanne nods.

* * *

The fire circle is down the hill, toward the frozen river, in a stand of low scraggy trees and brush. It's a fairly standard circle, all things considered: stones in a ring around a shallow pit of dirt, with four long logs in a square around it.

And the fire is spectacularly awkward to start off with, at least as far as Megamind is concerned, but Roxanne just crunches down to the circle of logs and drops herself down onto an empty one. Megamind stands off to the side, unsure about whether or where he's supposed to sit until Rose motions him down onto the end of the log Roxanne chose. Salim leans past her and waves; he's sitting with Rose's arm around his shoulders and his arm around her waist.

"S'more?" Rose says, offering him a bag of marshmallows and a long stick. Megamind stares at her, blank, uncomprehending. "Do you want one?"

"I don't—um. I don't know what that is," he admits, and all four humans present let out identical, indignant squawking noises, making him jump.

"Somebody failed you miserably, growing up," Dorothy says from where she's sitting on the log across from Rose and Salim's. "Roxanne, catch."

Roxanne turns and snatches the chocolate and graham crackers out of the air as her mother tosses them to her.

"Nice catch," says Dorothy, and Roxanne—

Okay, something happens that Megamind didn't pick up on. She blinks, huffs a short laugh, says, "Thanks." Then she turns to him. "Here is how you make a s'more," she says. "These are your tools. Stick. Fire."

"How very human," he says, arching an eyebrow, and she snorts at him.

"Hush, you. Put a marshmallow on the stick."

Blinking, Megamind obeys. Dorothy says, "You want to put it lengthways," and he frowns. __Why?__ he wonders.

Roxanne turns her head and scowls at her, but her voice when she speaks sounds almost amused. "Stop! Mom! I am teaching him; he can put it sideways if he wants to." She rolls her eyes as Dorothy holds up her hands in a sort of __okay, okay__ gesture. "Now pass me that other stick," she says. "This might be easier with a demo."

She takes two marshmallows and puts them both sideways on her stick, making a face at her mother as she does so—Dorothy just sighs and shakes her head—then leans her stick against the log and wiggles out two long crackers and breaks them in half, sets them on the log by her hip…okay, and then chocolate goes on the graham crackers. Huh.

Roxanne turns back to Megamind and picks up her stick. "We're going to toast these. Just be careful, they tend to—whoop, yeah, they're very flammable."

Megamind stares at his burning marshmallow, mortified.

"Ooo, I'll eat that one," Rose offers, holding out her hand for his torch-stick and offering him a clean stick with the other. "I like 'em charred."

Apparently he is blushing so hard Roxanne can tell even in the dark, because she nudges him with her knee. "Hey," she says. "We have a whole bag, it's okay. I should have warned you about that first. Just watch me." She moves toward the fire and drops into a crouch, extending the stick next to the flames and rotating it slowly with both hands. "You want a pocket full of coals if you can find one," she tells him. "You want to toast it over the coals, not set it on fire."

"Ah," he says, attempting this.

"The proper thing to do is wait for the fire to die down first, then bring out the marshmallows," Dorothy explains, "but that involves waiting while there are marshmallows to be eaten."

"So we mostly just do our best and eat a lot of burned marshmallows," Roxanne finishes.

"Oh doe, whad a hardshib," Rosemary deadpans, her voice thick with marshmallow before she swallows. "But I would add a small footnote: __I__ eat a lot of burned marshmallows. The rest of you just complain a lot."

Megamind laughs uncertainly. His marshmallow is getting…puffy? It's expanding. And sort of drooping. It's becoming difficult to rotate.

"Okay," Roxanne says, "When it gets to that stage, set it down on the cracker with chocolate—__don't touch it!__ Just rest it gently on the—yes. Use the other cracker to brace it while you slide the stick out…perfect!"

Megamind blinks at the little treat he's created. "It's a chocolate and marshmallow sandwich," he says, surprised. "But toasted?"

"It's a s'more," Salim says as Megamind bites into it, "because it's gone in two bites and then you want some more."

Roxanne is assembling her s'more. "I like mine with two marshmallows," she says. "But I figured you should have a standard-issue one first."

"Sensible," he says. This is good. This is excellent! Okay! Two marshmallows this time.

"So," Salim says, in the tone of someone opening a conversation, "do you two have a song, yet?" And then, when Megamind and Roxanne stare at him blankly, he says, "Or, songs that remind you two of each other? Sorry, I'm just always interested in hearing people's answers to that."

"Um," Roxanne says, stalling for time.

"She's Got A Way," Megamind says from where he's crouching by the fire and experimenting with stick angles, and Roxanne blinks as Salim smiles.

"Aw," he says. "Aw. Billy Joel, right? That's sweet."

Roxanne isn't familiar with the piece, but she isn't about to admit that. "Saint in the City," she says, having recovered herself from the unexpected question. "Springsteen."

Megamind glances at her over his shoulder, lips quirked in a searching smile. "'__With my blackjack and jacket and hair slicked sweet; silver star studs on my duds like a Harley in heat'__?" he asks, and Roxanne shrugs, a little self-consciously.

"Dance just like a Casanova," she says, "and born blue and weathered—and you've got a hand you know even the cops couldn't beat."

"Hmm," he says, and he's facing the fire but she can still hear him wearing that little smile. "Just a back street gambler with the luck to lose. And how do you know what I dance like, Miss Ritchi? You've never seen me dance."

"Oh come on, I have __eyes__," Roxanne blurts. "Like you can't dance? We all saw you skate." She cocks her head at him, smiling. "I bet you dance beautifully. We should take lessons together sometime."

He's quiet. Finally he says, "We should. That would—that would be—nice."

For tonight, just for tonight, he can believe it's possible.

* * *

Megamind eats seven two-marshmallow s'mores in addition to his first single-marshmallow one, to the astonishment of the humans present who aren't Roxanne, but eventually even he has to stop. He stands next to the fire as conversation wanes, flexing his hands in his coat pockets to keep his circulation going, but…

He's in his wool coat and tall boots, but his enormous skull is basically a heat sink and the lack of sunlight means there isn't even the whisper of heat to keep him warm. Without crouching close to the fire the way he needed to for the s'mores, he's shivering after only a couple minutes. He glances around, wondering if—why is everyone just sitting, he wonders, sitting in silence, staring into the fire. At least there are stars out; he could look at those if he wanted to. He doesn't want to, but he can look around at the frozen river and the frozen trees.

Finally he has to take his hands out of his pockets and fold his arms across his chest. __Fuck__, but it's cold. There's very little breeze, but what there is blows straight through his flannel pajamas.

Roxanne blinks when he moves and looks up from where she was zoning out into the flames. What is he…oh, he's shivering. She waits for a moment, expecting him to say something about the weather, but—he doesn't. He just stands by the fire with shoulders hunched and his long fingers tucked into his armpits, staring into the darkness behind the flames, shivering.

He really is trying, she realizes, feeling a sudden rush of warmth. He really, really is. He truly is doing his best to seem like someone she would date, up to and including stand in the freezing cold in his pajamas because a real boyfriend would rather be with her than be physically comfortable.

"Megamind," she says, before she can second-guess herself. "Megamind. Hey."

He turns, blinks down at her. His eyes look sleepy. She can't blame him; it really has been a long day for him.

She pats her lap with both hands. "Come sit," she says. "Be warm. Come sit."

He blinks at her, his gaze sharpening somewhat. "I'm okay," he says.

"You aren't," says Roxanne. "You're shivering, I can see you." His eyes flicker at her, pupils shining like a cat's in the sideways glow of the fire. "Come on," she says, smiling up at him. "Megamind, come sit."

His throat moves. His face doesn't.

"Megamind," she says again, softly, and pats her legs again, scoots back on the log to find a better way to sit if she has someone in her lap. Unzips her coat and then reaches for him with both hands. "Sweetheart. Let me keep you warm."

After a moment, he jerks his head in a nod and moves toward her. Slowly lets her tug him down into her lap so that he's sitting sideways with his bony butt braced between her legs, his feet on the log and his knees to his chest. She guides one of his arms in around her back under her coat like __this__, and her arms go around his narrow body like __that__, holding the sides of her warm coat around him with his cold fingers pressed against Roxanne's sweater, against her very warm body—his other arm is across his middle, his hand pinned between his side and her stomach—and—

__Oh__, Megamind thinks, turning his head to look at the fire again. It flickers, because it's fire. But also because there's water in his eyes. __Oh__.

"So, I was thinking," Rosemary says, breaking the silence, "about how you asked, earlier, why we lit a fire in the fireplace when the house was already warm and it would have been easier to play around the kitchen table. And you said, how the stick and the fire were human? I think you were probably right. Fire is…we've been building fires like this to chase the dark away since before we were even human. It's part of us.

"And it's funny," she continues, "because every time we think we've found something that sets us apart from other animals on this planet, we discover an animal or a new behavior that proves us wrong. Tools, playing, theory of mind, language with syntax. But fire…" She shakes her head. "That's the only thing I can think of that we do, that other animals don't. We build fires." She smiles a little. "We build fires, and then we sit together and make food and tell stories. Sing songs."

Roxanne just squeezes Megamind and says nothing.

"Anyway," Rose says, after a while. "I think maybe that's why it seems so normal to us, to build fires. This is just about the most human thing we can share with you."

Megamind gulps and turns his face away from the fire, turns and rests his chin on Roxanne's shoulder so he can stare out into the dark. Rose wasn't kidding, he can tell—all four of the humans are sitting in silence again around the crackling fire, staring into the flames without speaking. It's the only time he's ever seen a group of more than two do anything like that. Sit together, not speaking, just staring together at something totally mundane. Fire? It's just fire. It's nothing special. But you wouldn't know that, to look at any of the humans present.

After a minute or two, he feels Roxanne lift a hand to the back of his head. Feels her gloved thumb rub in a little circle there. And he feels—

Loved. Fuck.

__We built fires__, he thinks, thinking of cave walls marked with the handprints of people who died tens of thousands of years ago, of paintings of horses and buffalo and mammoths, and—__we built fires. We told stories, we sang songs__.

"Songs," he says, clearing his throat and turning back. "I—I don't know what—set my people apart, that way. I don't know if there was anything," he admits. Roxanne moved her hand back down when he moved his head, but he still—feels—a lot. "Maybe there wasn't. I don't see why there needs to be something different, something unique, but—but we did sing. We have that in common."

"Oh?" Roxanne says. "I don't think I've heard you sing, before."

"I'm not very good at it," he admits. "Not by human standards."

"You aren't human," she says, squeezing him. "That's okay."

Megamind's throat closes. __You aren't human; that's okay__. No wonder he's obsessed with her.

"Did you want to sing something?" Salim asks.

Megamind clears his throat and gathers himself. "I know a few songs," he says. "From home. Mostly lullabies, things my parents sang me. But, um. I can—I can sing—around the fire—"

He takes a deep breath and lifts his voice.

The humans present listen, mesmerized. He sounds like two birds singing at once, but his voice underneath the whistling song is deeper, nearly whale-like. There's no meter or rhythm any of them can hear, but there's harmony, and there is a pattern to it. He sends notes fluting high into the night, smoothly liquid, each pitch warbling water-clear across the snow and the silent, ice-laden trees—

__The moon is full__, he sings, birdsongs tangling in his throat__, the moon calls and pulls us; the moon is full; the moon is crying for you__. __The moon has cast her crown of white pearls into deep water, deep with the scallops, the parrotfish__.

He drags in a breath and keeps singing. Nobody's stopped him, so far. He was quiet to start off with, but now he lifts his face up and sends his song out into the darkness to bounce off the cliff face rising far behind Dorothy and Salim. __May it be that you travel with luck in your hands, may it be that you sail with blood in your teeth__—

Roxanne's arms are very tight, now, and Megamind's eyes are closed, the fire dancing scarlet through his blood behind his eyelids. __May it be you bring happiness; may it be you find kindness; may it be that you find what you seek where you go__—

__Sing love, sing love, sing love to the clear air__—__sing love, sing love, sing love to the sea__—__she moves with the moon, the tides, your heartsong; sing love, sing love, sing love__.

He pauses, the last note ringing—

Then, suddenly embarrassed, he curls down and puts his ear to the top of Roxanne's chest. Hides his head under her chin. It's instinctive, thoughtless; he doesn't ask—he just moves—and he almost jerks away but—

But Roxanne's arm is already coming up to curl up around his head and hold him there. Warm against her heart, against her throat, and—God. Honestly, seriously, Megamind thinks, if he died right now, right here—by this fire—with these humans—under this sky full of too many stars—he would go happy. All he's missing is Minion, and Minion would understand.

"That was beautiful, my love," Roxanne says softly.

"Holy shit," Salim declares from across the fire, and Rose makes a noise of agreement.

"Megamind, if that's your language," Dorothy asks, "how on __earth__ did you manage to learn English?"

Megamind gulps and feels himself go tense. Roxanne, incredibly, seems to pick up on this; her arms go __even tighter__ and she presses her chin down against the back of his head. "Well," Megamind says, muffled by her coat and the curl of his own legs, "so do parrots."

There's quiet for a moment, and then suddenly all of the humans burst out laughing.

"So do parrots!" Salim wheezes. "Oh my god!"

"Parrots," Rose agrees, struggling to breathe, "Parrots? Lord, Roxanne, please keep him; he's amazing."

"Isn't he?" Roxanne asks, petting Megamind's huge head and cuddling him in against her body. "Isn't he just the best? I love him," she says, and Megamind thinks it's probably a good thing he's curled up in a ball around his chest, because his heart has just ripped in half in its dark hollow.

"I love you, too," he mumbles, warm in her arms and feeling like the worst kind of person for lying to her, wishing it was true.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Megamind is exhausted enough that he's pretty sure he won't be able to dream, but—

At twelve-thirty in the morning he gasps and he's out of bed and stumbling on his feet before he even really establishes he's awake. No, he—strange beds; he can't—he—no, this was stupid, this was a dumb idea; he needs to go downstairs.

The house is dark and quiet as he descends the stairs, glad the floors here don't squeak the way some of the upper floors of Evil Lair do. But the tree lights are on in the living room when he gets there, and Dorothy is on the sofa, looking at the tree in the dark.

Megamind halts in the doorway, freezes, but Echo lifts her head with a jingle of tags and Dorothy turns.

She jumps when she sees him, gasps a little. Then she laughs, sounding embarrassed with herself. "Sorry," she says quietly, still laughing. "You—your eyes."

He nods. "Cat's eyes," he says stiffly, backing away. "Sorry. I'll—sorry to disturb you."

"No, no, come sit."

He stops. Roxanne isn't here. What possible—why would she—he snapped at her earlier and if her daughter isn't here to give her a reason to ask him closer then—

Hesitant, full of misgivings, he crosses the living room silently and slides onto the sofa. Dorothy has gone back to staring at the Christmas tree.

After a while, she says, "I come down here sometimes when I can't sleep. Sitting in the dark in bed is so depressing. At least here I can feel like I'm making a choice to be awake." She looks over at him. "What do you do when you're at home?"

"When I can't sleep?" At her nod, he shrugs. "Get up. Go to work. I always have something I'm working on. At least one project." He shakes his head. "Multiple projects, almost always. But at the Lair, I—usually, I stay awake long enough for sleep not to be an issue."

She frowns a little. "That doesn't sound terribly healthy."

He laughs, low. "I am a supervillain," he says, staring into the lights of the tree, brows low over his eyes. "Health is not something I have ever claimed. Physical or otherwise."

They're quiet again. Eventually, Megamind asks, "Why do things need to be just so?"

Dorothy smiles a little, but her face is tired. "You noticed that. That's not a bad way to put it." Megamind doesn't reply, just looks at her with his lamp-flashing eyes, his mouth a thin line. She sighs. "I don't know how to catch myself," she says. "I wish I could. It never seems like such a big thing to me, but Roxanne…well. I…I feel like someone is looking over my shoulder. Judging my work, I suppose. If I don't fix it, or, or at least __try__, at least say something…" She trails off. "I don't know. I can't let it go. I can't."

Megamind blinks, flickering his stare.

"I try," Dorothy tells him. "I do try. I haven't stopped trying, I—the sheets up there are cotton. She hates polyester, anything with polyester; I don't know why, I think it's great, but—I keep those sheets for her. And I don't say anything when she won't try the cornbread or quinoa or rice. I do try."

He tilts his head. "What happens if you force yourself to let something go?"

"It's hard. It feels…heavy." She sighs again. "It runs around in my head. It doesn't leave me alone, it just gets bigger. Eventually it does go away, but…the meantime is…it feels like something terrible is going to happen, it really does. And, and as soon as I get rid of one worry, I have another. Something is wrong and I have to fix it, I have to at least say something so I can tell myself I __tried__ to fix it, or…or else I…I don't know."

He frowns. "That isn't how the universe works."

"I know that," she says. "I just wish I could catch myself __before__ I say something. I can do it, sometimes. But I'm a worrier; sometimes it gets the best of me."

Then she looks at him. "I was surprised you came to church with us," she says. "I would have assumed you were an atheist."

Megamind shrugs. He is painfully aware of his flannel hazmat pajamas, painfully aware of his lack of anything remotely resembling flare. Painfully aware that she's changing the subject, but unsure what to do about it. "Can't an alien have faith?"

"Well, you are a man of science." Dorothy's voice is dry. "Hard science. The alien thing…I wasn't really thinking about that."

It's not the first time he's heard someone express surprise upon learning Megamind has something like faith. He may not subscribe to a particular religion and he may not have anything that could be called a belief system, but…

"Dr. Carolyn Porco once said, __the same spiritual fulfillment people find in religion can be found in science__," he says quietly, "__by coming to know, if you will, the mind of God__." He's silent for a few seconds, and then he says, "I am familiar enough with the universe on a small enough scale to know how it's organized. And it __is__ organized, Mrs. Ritchi. Whether this is because of the inherent nature of mathematics or because some all-powerful entity or entities will it so, I don't know, but…" He shrugs. "I'm not ruling anything out.

"And it's a nice idea," he adds. "Even outside of physics, the whole—grace thing. A loving God who knows what it is, what it means to be a living person. I do like that. It's—it was a good sermon, today. I, I do want—to believe that. I—can believe it, sometimes, I think." He pauses. "I like it much better than the prison chaplain's take on the subject, either way."

"I don't know who Carolyn Porco is," Dorothy says, after a minute.

"One of the Voyager scientists," he says. "Renowned for her work studying planetary rings. She's working on the Cassini–Huygens space-research mission."

"Hm. It's a good quote."

Megamind nods.

"She really loves you, you know," Dorothy says, after a while of sitting in the flickering white light. Megamind swallows hard. "I know my girl. She cares about you a lot."

He presses his lips together. Nods again. He cannot bring himself to say he cares about her, too.

After a while, he says, "She loves you, too." Dorothy looks over at him. "She explained earlier. But…something seeming small to you…it's big to her. It adds up. The small things."

She sighs. "I know," she says. "I should probably talk to someone. It's getting harder, lately, to…well, to let things go. I have to try and fix them, and then I, I have to either trust that I fixed them the best I could or I have to try again, and…" She shakes her head. "It takes a lot of time for me to get things the way I like them. And having guests is difficult." She's quiet. "I don't know if that's normal. I'm much better now than I used to be. But."

Megamind isn't sure how to read between those lines, but he pricks up his ears at __it's getting harder__. "Humans are social," he says slowly. "Empty house…might make things worse? For you."

"Hm. Not a bad thought," she admits. "I've considered turning this place into a bed and breakfast, or one of those new 'airbnbs,' but…other people in my space?" She shakes her head again, sends him a rueful little smile. "That's a big hurdle."

"I suppose." He has no idea what he's doing. Ten minutes ago he was in the grip of a nightmare; now he's sitting in the dark talking to his kidnappee's mother about her…what, her apparently-pathological need to correct the world? How on earth is he supposed to navigate this conversation?

Then again, he reminds himself for the umpteenth time, he doesn't need her to like him. He'll never see her again.

So he clears his throat. "But. I…what I mean is…family is important. And I know you don't—you don't see why it's a big deal. It's a small deal, to you. But it is a __big deal to her__. This is true whether you agree or not. You don't have to—to understand—" He scowls, frustrated, trying to figure out how to word this.

"I don't have to understand something before it becomes real," Dorothy says, after a few seconds, and Megamind looks over at her, startled.

Then he glares. "You know that. Good. But then—__why?__" He shakes his head. "I never had this. I'm—I'm the last. Of me. There aren't any others, won't be any others. And. For me, seeing—__this,__ seeing…it hurts her. She told you, __she said__, it hurts, please stop, and you—you __know __you don't have to understand, you __know __it is real and you __keep doing it__."

"I told you," she says, "it's hard for me to let things be wrong. It's __wrong__. It—I know it doesn't always make sense but I __don't know how__ to leave it alone." She shakes her head. "And, like I said, I am better now than I was. I'm happy with who I am."

"The person you're happy with is still hurting Roxanne," Megamind says sharply. "And—you could—learn. To let things go. You could learn; you're human. Intelligent. You have time, you could find someone to teach you. Therapy." He breathes for a moment. "I just—I think—if you talked to someone—it would mean a lot to Roxanne."

Dorothy heaves a sigh. "Yes," she murmurs, sounding mildly contemplative, "it probably would. Something to think about." She stands. "Well," she says, "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Merry Christmas."

* * *

She's been upstairs for a good few minutes when Megamind finally pulls himself out of his thoughts and moves to extend the recliner, but—ah. He left his pillow upstairs. He was in too much of a hurry when he rolled out of bed, the last time. Awesome. Well, he'll just…have to go and get it, then; the way his spine is shaped, not having a pillow means he'll wake up with excruciating knots in his neck.

So he creeps back up the stairs, quietly, and moves back into the guest room, quietly, and picks up his pillow—

"Megamind," Roxanne whispers, catching the sleeve of his pajamas before he can move back toward the door. "Wait. Don't go."

Crap.

He sighs, shakes his head. "Unfamiliar beds, Miss Ritchi. I don't—sleep well. On my back is—I can—I can go to sleep but once I move my hands, I—"

"Can you sleep on your side?"

He shakes his head. "Not really, no. Not without a better mattress than this one. Repeatedly getting punched through walls, you know, it…can lead to some…__minor__ spinal issues." He laughs a little, but it comes out forced.

Roxanne swallows. "Can you tell me what you need?" she asks, her voice low. "Maybe I can help?"

Megamind stands for a moment, silent, huge head sort of bowed. Eventually he says, "I need something on me. Something more than a blanket across my chest or my stomach. Echo laid on me on the recliner last night and I thought maybe…"

"Oh," Roxanne says. "Oh, is that—? I can do that. Come here, lie down." He looks over his shoulder at her but doesn't move. She tugs on his sleeve a little. "Please? Let me try. I want to help. A recliner isn't…let me try?"

Megamind straightens his spine, drags his head up. He shouldn't. Especially not now, with his heart pulling itself toward her like she's something magnetic. Hold yourself away, Megamind, this is not for you. Hold yourself away, turn away, don't look back and don't think about how badly it hurts.

He—

"Megamind, please," Roxanne says behind him, "let me try," and really, he can only take so much.

He turns and crawls back into bed.

He crawls back into bed with Roxanne, lets her guide him toward her. Lets her ease him down onto his back. He arranges his pillow behind his head, then looks for her; she's sort of hovering over him with an expression on her face in the dark that—she looks soft, sort of. She looks like she might actually care about him.

He swallows. "Okay," he says. "What—did you have in mind?"

Her face pinches into something he recognizes as some kind of decision, and—she leans down and brushes the fingers of one hand down the side of his face (touching him in the dark in a shared bed, what, __what__)—and then she scoots down a little on the bed and lies down with him the way she did in the recliner this morning for the movie. She presses herself to his side and rests her ear in the soft place under his clavicle, hugs his narrow body with her arm. Throws her leg over one of his and tangles their feet together.

"This," she says, once she's settled. "Will this work? Or will you be too hot?"

Megamind draws a shivery breath. "No," he says in a low voice, "no, this should work. Are you—" __Are you sure about this__, he wants to say, but he's noticing Roxanne always says she's sure or she wants to when he questions her. And. He doesn't want to be one of the people who questions her. So instead, he says, "Thank you," and tries not to let his heart climb into his throat and choke him when she tightens her arm around his body, hugging him.

He does allow his own arm to wrap up around her waist, allows his hand to rest on her lovely soft hip, and he loses the fight against his heart and has to squeeze his eyes closed hard when she hums and cuddles into him in response to that.

* * *

But today was a lot, and remembering his planet and his people was a lot, and the stars and the vastness of space, the unspeakable void—

Megamind jerks awake again an hour or so later, gasping, with Roxanne rubbing her hand up and down his sternum and murmuring __you're okay, you're okay, you're okay__.

He blinks up at the ceiling and shakes his head a little bit to clear it, gulps a couple times; his throat is dry.

"Megamind," Roxanne says, still pressing her hand to his chest, "you're okay. You're here in Montana, okay?"

He nods, still trying to find a voice that won't come out as chirps or thrumming.

There's a couple taps on the door, and Roxanne lifts herself up and goes to crack it open. "We're okay," she says, and Megamind hears Rose's low voice for a second or two, and then Roxanne thanking her, and then Roxanne is climbing back into bed and nestling up under the covers next to Megamind, her arm across his body pinning him down, against the mattress, against the earth.

Finally he whispers, "Woke you up. Sorry."

Roxanne shakes her head. "No," she tells him. "No, don't apologize. Do you want some water? Rose brought a cup."

That was kind of her. Megamind sits up, drinks, stares down at the cup in his hands. "It's too quiet, here," he says softly. "Too quiet. Too many stars, and I can't hear the city."

Roxanne blinks, then scoots away over to her nightstand to do something on her phone. "Hang on," she says, "I have a white noise app. I think it has city noises…ah. Yeah, here."

He closes his eyes. "You don't have to," he says.

"Shh. I want to help. And I'm not sleeping well, either; maybe this will help me, too." She plays with the settings for a minute, adjusting the balance of traffic and sirens until she's satisfied. Then she looks up at Megamind. "Good?"

He nods and glances over at her. "Thank you," he says.

She just nods as she comes back over toward him. Megamind sighs and lies back down with his arms around her—one up around her waist, his other hand gripping Roxanne's arm across his chest, the reminder that he's here, he's grounded, he can breathe.

"Megamind," Roxanne murmurs, after a little while, "are you happy? Not right now, obviously, but—in general."

He blinks his eyes open, frowns up into the darkness. "Right now I am very happy," he says, and feels her face move against his chest a little. Smiling?

"I mean as a supervillain," she says, in the same quiet voice as before. "Does that really make you happy?"

And that—oh. Of all the questions she could ask, she—that one isn't—something he wants to think about. He spends fully three-quarters of his waking hours struggling not to think about that, spends one hundred percent of his waking hours working himself hard enough that he can't lie awake at night thinking about it.

"I enjoy it," he says.

Roxanne pauses, then says, slowly, "That's good, but…it isn't what I asked. Is being a supervillain what you want? Are you happy?"

Megamind's expression twists but he knows she can't see it, so he lets it happen, lets himself grimace and grit his teeth. A week ago, four days ago, two days ago, he could have told her yes, he is happy, he loves his job. But now—she laughed with him and she said she loves the brainbots and she—this evening she said she loves him, and he knows she didn't mean it, but—she holds him against her side, kisses him, smiles at him after. She holds him here in the dark, in the warm space under her body, because this is a strange bed and she wants him to sleep well and feel safe and—it is so much more difficult to lie to Roxanne right now than it is to lie to himself.

Still, he swallows hard and takes a breath to say __yes, I am happy, I love this and I really don't know why you think I might not__—

But the breath he takes is too big for his lungs. It catches there, and what comes out is a choked-off, "No. I'm not," and he can't exhale, his breath won't cooperate, won't leave without choking him and bringing tears with it. "I'm—there are—I, I do enjoy—but—"

"It's okay," she murmurs, but it isn't, it isn't okay at all. Megamind releases a groan of __regret/anger/frustration__, repeating a double-toned descending hum deep in his chest, clunking miserably in his syrinx. "Megamind, you're okay." Roxanne's hand rubs his chest again, up and down his wide sternum.

He shakes his head. "No," he says, his subvoice still humming with regret and angry tears, "no."

Roxanne pauses for a moment, and then she moves, crawls up his body a little so she can drape her arms up around his head on the pillow.

Maybe things can be different, Megamind thinks, trying for hope. Maybe they can, maybe—the skaters today, they shared their ice with him, watched him kiss Roxanne, didn't say __anything__ about it—and Roxanne's family has been nothing but kind to him—and the people at church, they smiled at him, they shook his hand—

—but it's still too late for him, isn't it? Isn't it, at this point? He's already chosen, he—

Maybe things could have been different. But this is who he is, now. He has spent __years__ crowing his evil from the highest vantages he can find and backing up his words with various weapons of massive destruction. He can't go back, now. He could leave Metro City and build a new name for himself somewhere else, but that would mean leaving Roxanne and he can't, he can't, not now—

"You're okay," she whispers, close to his ear, "Megamind, you're okay, I've got you."

Yes, she has him; yes, she has him for the next sixteen hours, twenty if he's lucky, but tomorrow night he'll be alone in his cold bed in his freezing Lair, too well-rested from this vacation to fall asleep as quickly as he usually does. And he has the brainspace to be incredibly embarrassed about crying on her like this, but since he can't kidnap her anymore—he can't, not for a while at least, not with his sick obsession with her raging in the hollow of his chest—he can at least, at __least __let himself cling to her and cry his regret and his rage and all his pain into her while she whispers to him and calls him __love__ and __sweetling__ and says __I'm here__.

She isn't his girlfriend, not really. He could pretend—Megamind is good at pretending; he's only been doing it for most of his life—but there's too much now for him to ignore, too much cognitive dissonance.

He jerks his hands away from her.

"Why," he hisses. "Why are you making me __think__ about this, why are you—why would you ask me—I __hate__ this—"

"Because you aren't happy," she tells him. "And…how are you going to change things without thinking about it?"

"They can't __be__ changed!" He bares his teeth. "This is my lot, Roxanne; I tried to change it before and I failed, I—"

"So try again," she begins, but he cuts her off.

"I __did__ try again! I did try, and then I tried __again__ and __again__ and—you have no idea how hard I—it doesn't __work!__ It __never__ works!" He makes another noise, this one somewhere between a hiss and a moan. "No matter what I do. No matter what I try, I am not—what I try, what I say, what I do __doesn't matter; __I am __wrong__ for this world, Roxanne. Most humans see that immediately, or within a few minutes of speaking to me." He hisses again, then goes rigid under her. "Stop," he says, irritated, "just stop. Get away from me, stop touching me; I can't—I can't keep—"

He cuts himself off again, then grits his teeth and presses the heels of both hands against his temples. Hesitant, Roxanne strokes one of his delicate wrists.

"I want to stop thinking," he grits out, not relaxing, not looking at her. "That's what happens when I think about this—this shit. I wind up hopeless and angry and wanting to stop thinking."

Roxanne swallows, then puts her hands over his on his head, her fingers resting between his. "Megamind, sweet—"

"__Stop,__" he says again, shoving her hands away. "No one else is here. It's just us. I do not need you to hold me, I do need you to pet me and comfort me and tell me I'm okay, I __do not need__ these things and there's no one else here so you can __drop the act__, all right? Enough already!"

"Fine," Roxanne says, stung. She sits up, scoots away from him. "Fine. You just run away, then. Run away and keep on running. I'm not stupid, Megamind; I know we're the only two here; I was lying on you because I wanted to, because I care about you and I want you to be able to sleep and I want you to be happy and you aren't. But fine."

He growls and sits up, swings his legs down and grips the mattress like he's about to leave. He even rocks forward. And rocks forward again, shifting his weight, starting to stand.

But after a few seconds of frozen angry silence, he slumps forward and puts his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking.

Roxanne, sitting cross-legged on the bed behind him, sighs. After a while, she reaches forward and touches his back, and he does actually turn and look at her, his witchlight pupils flashing in the pale moonlight coming in through the window.

She opens her arms, offering. Megamind stares at her for a long few seconds, and then his expression crumples and he nods and crawls back to her, crawls—oh, wow, all the way into her lap, the way he sat at the fire earlier this evening. Roxanne wasn't expecting that. He curls down, ducks away to roll into a ball with his forehead against his thighs and his ear against her chest. Roxanne wraps her arms around him the same way she did earlier, too: one around his back, the other up around his head.

"Okay," she whispers, stroking the gentle curve of his cranium with her fingertips. "Okay. We'll figure it out, Megamind, I promise. Listen, and—just listen, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

__I love you__, she wants to say, __I love you, you don't need to love me back but I want you to know that I love you, you're loved, I love you__.

"Listen," she murmurs, when his breathing finally slows for a while. "I need to—god, I hope you won't be angry with me, but I need to tell you something. Because I, I sort of already knew you aren't happy."

"Too smart," he mumbles, not moving. "Always were too smart."

She swallows. "Can I try to describe what I think you're probably feeling right now?"

He sighs. Shrugs.

"You feel trapped. You tried to show the people around you that you aren't what they thought of you, but you weren't sure how to show them and you never seemed to get it right. They never seemed to get it; something always went wrong. So after a while, you thought, well, they can't all be wrong about me. Maybe they're right, maybe I am destined to be a supervillain.

"So that's what you did. It isn't all bad, and there are some parts of it you really do like! You love your job! Some days, you can even believe that.

"But you still know that's not right. Not really. You're playing a part that was chosen for you, not a part you wanted. You never really got a chance to figure out what you would want to do, instead; you got into this too early, and now it hurts too much to wonder what else you could have been.

"And now you're angry. Because it wasn't right, and you know that, and it hurts. You're angry at the humans for not seeing you and you're angry at yourself for not fighting harder. And that hurts, too, so you mostly just don't think about it and you focus on the stuff you do enjoy, and you work hard enough not to have time to think about how you're in pain."

Megamind has gone totally still in her arms. "Yes," he says, after a long, shocked pause, and lifts his head. "Yes, that's…how did you…"

"Because it's pretty much exactly the same thing Wayne said when I called him today." Roxanne loosens her arms a little so he can scoot away from her and swipe the cuff of his sleeve across his eyes and stare at her. "I called him while you and Salim were out walking. And we talked, and Megamind, he said if you ever wanted to hang up the cape for good, he would absolutely help you work out a deal with the DA's office. He also volunteered to work on whatever PR campaign I came up with. And I know you don't like him, but he has a __lot __of clout in Metro; he really could help you."

"What," he whispers.

"And then he told me he isn't happy, either," Roxanne says. "And he explained all the stuff I just said. He is exhausted, Megamind, and he said it took him a long time to figure out why and even longer to come to grips with it, and he'd love to try something else, but Metro City Council says they don't have the budget to pay for a hired hero or auxiliary heroes."

"Well __that's__ a lie," Megamind says, distracted from his confusion and his tentative irritation that she would go behind his back and clear this with his arch-nemesis before even speaking to him about it.

"I suspected it might be," Roxanne says. "But—my point is, if you—Megamind, you are an honest-to-goodness __supergenius;__ villainy is __not__ the only way to use your skills. You can build things for good as well as evil. Things like medical assistive devices that people can actually afford—Rose told me what you offered to do for Panambi's grandma; I think it's a wonderful idea—and, and—helper AIs! Your brainbots! Or, if you wanted to try heroing, Metro Man is already more than willing to help you make that transition. And Metro's government won't be able to walk all over you the way they do with him."

He stares at her in the dark, his breath still shivering behind his ribs but his mind starting to chew on this concept. "Close to half of them can be ousted next election," he murmurs absently, "that's not a problem. Hint at what I have so they don't try to backtalk us in the next few months…"

He's quiet for a while, just looking at her. "I'm sorry," Roxanne finally says, "for not talking to you first. I just…I wanted to be able to give you real options, not just empty assurances. You __can do something else__, if you want to. You don't—you don't have to do things that—make you unhappy."

It isn't too late. That's what she's saying; she's saying he can still change things. There's still time.

"You don't have to decide right away," Roxanne says, after another long pause. "You can take your time, talk to Minion, think about it."

Megamind clears his throat. "Well," he says, a bit unsteadily, "that…is…something to think about." He swallows, and then—slowly—he slips his arms around her shoulders and tips his head forward, rests it against hers, forehead to forehead. He isn't leaning the full weight of it on her, she's sure of that, but…he lifts a hand to the back of her head and presses their foreheads together like he can't stop himself from doing it. Presses his head to hers, holds her there.

"—Oh," she murmurs, startled but receptive to whatever this is, "um?"

"Please," he grits out, "please, I'm sorry, I just—I need to—"

"Okay, it's okay," she says quickly, "just…sorry, what is this?"

He growls. "Your brain and mine are—of equal import. Equally important. To me."

Equally—

She grips his massive, beautiful head in both hands and pushes back against him, hard, her heart hanging like a stone in her throat. Because that, that expression coming from a man who named himself __Megamind__, that has to be the absolute highest compliment she's ever received.

"I just," he says again, sounding choked and near to tears, "needed to—tell you."

__I love you, I love you, __but she can't tell him that now; that's too much. On top of everything else tonight? On top of everything else from today? No.

"Yeah," she whispers, "I…thank you, and…yes, of course, me too. I…come on, sweetheart; come on; let's lie back down, okay?"

He gulps, a soft, mournful noise, but he nods against her and sighs and turns away, slides back under the covers. Roxanne follows him down and pillows her head on his chest again, her arm around his narrow body, her legs tangling with his. She does a thing with her feet for a minute that confuses him until—oh, he realizes, she's using her toes to tug the cuffs of his trousers to his ankles so they aren't rucked up uncomfortably around his knees.

He blinks up into the dark, moisture trickling from the corners of his eyes into his ears as Roxanne settles back in against him with a soft sigh. So maybe she wasn't as freaked out by touching foreheads as he thought when she pulled away? Maybe she really did mean something by it when she seemed to do it back? He—it had felt comforting, to have her hands on his skin like that, warm on his head like that—he would have liked to stay a little longer, long enough to be sure he has the feeling of that fully engraved in his memory. Like a photograph he can look at on his bad days, to remember he had this. For a few seconds, anyway.

She is being so kind to him, and he just—he doesn't know how to—she has never exactly had a choice in how or when she sees him, and now she __does__ have a choice, and she is choosing to hold him in her arms here in the dark so he can sleep.

He wants to stay awake, to hold Roxanne and think about—he has options? now? suddenly the future might not end with him bleeding out on the pavement somewhere?—but he's too tired to feel very hopeful about it. Too tired and too heartsick and too…much. He's too much, again, even for himself. And it is __not__ a good idea to feel good about holding the woman he drugs and kidnaps on a weekly basis—down that road lies madness—and it would be rude to spurn the gift Roxanne is giving him, the gift she is very kindly ignoring her personal space and comfort and sense of safety to give him, so—

He closes his eyes. And gulps his empty heart out of his throat and down into its hollow in his chest where it belongs. And goes to sleep.

He doesn't dream.

* * *

__MetroImperative: hey__  
__MetroImperative: hey minion you awake?__  
__MetroImperative: sorry but i just got off THE WEIRDEST phone call__  
****FantasticFish: wht's up  
****__MetroImperative: hey sorry roxie's mom just called__  
****FantasticFish: her mOM?  
****__MetroImperative: yeah__  
__MetroImperative: Roxie's mom called and asked what i thought of roxie dating megamind__  
__MetroImperative: she wanted to know how long was this going on, how long have i known about this, all that stuff__  
****FantasticFish: ohhh crap oh jeez oh no oh no  
****__MetroImperative: so i was like "I mean, i dunno, she doesn't tell me everything but they've been together for a while now and they seem really happy"__  
****FantasticFish: AAAA tHANK YOU  
FantasticFish: i owe you one  
FantasticFish: bullet dodged  
****__MetroImperative: you don't owe me shit__  
__MetroImperative: seriously__  
****FantasticFish: i just don't know when I would have another opportunity to get those two boneheads in the same room long enough for them to figure it out! if this doesn't work i will SCREAM and then lock them in a closet or something  
FantasticFish: thank you for covering holy cow  
****__MetroImperative: it was just so weird, man. Roxie's mom is a sweet lady, but…__  
__MetroImperative: i dunno, she can be kinda weird about stuff sometimes? Like, why are you calling me? Do you not trust your kid? You're going to call your kid's EX-BOYFRIEND at ass o'clock in the morning like "so dish me the deets" like excuse me? What?__  
__MetroImperative: anyway sorry to wake you up, i just__  
__MetroImperative: needed a record of this so tomorrow I don't think i hallucinated the whole thing, you know?__  
****FantasticFish: you covered for sir and miss Ritchi you can wake me up anytime you want  
****__MetroImperative: hey i got you fam__  
****FantasticFish: maybe don't say that lmao but thanks  
****__MetroImperative: copy that 10-4 good buddy :) merry xmas__  
****FantasticFish: lol ok goodnight dorkus maximus I am going back to sleep****


	14. Chapter 14

Dream is based on an early brainbot test by Ron Pucherelli, which can be seen starting at 1:02 if you go to vimeo dot com slash 28919386 .

* * *

CHAPTER 14

Megamind wakes up warm and slow. The room is bright. Roxanne's head is on his shoulder and her arm is still draped across his chest. Her breathing is slow and deep.

__I love you__, he thinks, feeling a pang go through him. He wants—

Could he? Maybe? Could that be true, can he love her?

But he would __know__, wouldn't he? Everyone knows. Everyone knows when they're in love.

He sighs and closes his eyes. He's going to tell her. Today. This can't go on. It seems—almost absurd; he left Evil Lair barely two days ago utterly convinced that he could swing being a pretend boyfriend for three days without losing his marbles. A night and a day and another night next to Roxanne put the lie to __that__ conviction.

"Mmgn," Roxanne says, her arm around him going tight. "Ffflgth."

He chuckles low in his throat and she hums another unintelligible syllable and then lifts her head a little, makes a squinty face in the morning sunlight and looks down at him, blinking eyes that are still a little puffy from last night's tears.

"Good morning, Miss Ritchi," he says, cocking an eyebrow at her and hoping—praying—she remembers last night, remembers this was her suggestion—

She drops her head back down onto his chest and yawns. "G'mornng handsome," she mumbles, and Megamind breathes. "How'd you sleep?"

"Quite well," he says, "thanks to you." He yawns, too, then, and slowly urges her off of him so he can sit up and swing his legs down. He loves the cuddles, but there's only so much he can take before he starts thinking about things he doesn't want to think about. "I didn't dream again."

"I dreamed I was a salad," Roxanne tells him, her voice still rough with sleep. "I had croutons."

Megamind turns and looks down at her, lying half on her side and smiling sleepily up at him with her hair all gloriously messy, and bursts into helpless laughter. He stands, shaking his head, and flips the covers up over her to hide himself from view so he can get into his undersuit. Roxanne laughs, too, muffled by bedclothes.

Eventually, when Megamind doesn't say anything after that, she pokes her head out. He's in his undersuit, standing in front of the mirror, looking at his hands.

She crawls out of bed and goes over to him, takes his hands in hers and kisses the scarred knuckles of first one, then the other. Then she brushes her thumbs over the scars there, old and pale. "You got these fighting," she says, and Megamind nods. Roxanne presses her lips together in a brittle smile. "I wish you didn't have to." She kisses them again. "I wish you never had to."

He twitches a small smile at her when she looks at him, and—slowly turns his right hand to brush his fingertips down her cheek.

Then he quickly turns himself away to find a shirt and his jeans. He can't. He can't be doing this. Allow her to hold him and allow himself to feel her warmth, tell himself he feels loved—this is a lie. All of it. This is false, fake, pretend, it isn't __real__.

It isn't.

He buttons his shirt in silence and then leans his forehead against the wall, listening to the soft rustling of Roxanne getting dressed behind him and trying not to think about it, wondering if the hollowed-out space behind his ribs can possibly get any bigger or more hollow than it is.

* * *

Breakfast is french toast made with eggnog instead of milk. It is, possibly, the best french toast Megamind has ever had, a fact which feels like a massive betrayal of Minion's trust in him, but—he consoles himself with the knowledge that once he presents eggnog to Minion as a possibility, Minion's french toast will once again be secured as Megamind's favorite.

Breakfast is also a surprisingly cheerful affair, considering last night's unpleasantness. Huh. Apparently this really is just something that happens, sometimes. Still, he's pretty sure he picks up on some wariness from Roxanne's direction and some aloofness from Dorothy's, so.

__She's my mother and I love her and I know she has my back__, Roxanne said. __But she also doesn't realize how much it hurts to be corrected all the time__.

Family is a strange thing, he thinks vaguely, and he thanks Rosemary for passing him the orange juice.

* * *

After breakfast, Megamind sits himself down on the floor to play tug-of-war with Echo and a slimy, frayed rope while the family members exchange gifts until he cannot possibly wait one second longer, and then he crouches and picks up a box wrapped in shiny black paper and silver ribbon.

"You need to open this now," he says, handing it to Roxanne. "I have been dying to give you this since I conceived of it a few weeks ago."

She looks up at him, smiling, startled. "You made this? Wow, it's heavy."

He nods, grinning in spite of the despair churning inside him. He really is excited to see how she reacts to this. It occurs to him—suddenly—that this may be somewhat overkill, but—it's too late now.

She puts the box in her lap as Megamind sits down beside her to watch her pull off the wrapping paper and open the lid.

Inside is a block of protective foam made of a material she's never seen before, and inside that is—

No less mystified than she was prior, Roxanne lifts a heavy sphere of shining steel out of the box. It's only about half a foot in diameter, with concentric circles angling down on its right and left hemispheres, on either side of a circle of red glass. Miniscule etchings trace over the surface, which also seems to have—are they light bulbs? Little indicator lights?—scattered organically across the space between the two rings of circles.

She looks at Megamind and raises her eyebrows expectantly. His grin widens and he carefully takes the sphere from her and moves the box off her legs so he can put the sphere down in her lap, with the red circle pointing up at her face. Very quietly, he says, "Now, stroke it—like this, from here to here—and tell it to wake up."

Roxanne brushes her fingertips across its surface. "Wake up," she says, feeling sort of silly. "It's—it's time to wake up—"

There's a click, and then a whirr, and then the red circle flickers to life and—blinks at her—

The sphere lifts off her lap with a sort of crooning hum, the circles on its sides lagging just a little behind the rest of it, fluttering away from its body like little folded wings.

Roxanne's face lights up slowly as comprehension dawns. "Hey," she says softly, "hello, beautiful, good morning!"

The bot whirrs at her, cocks itself a little, blinks a few times.

"My name is Roxanne," she tells it, brushing the backs of her fingers gently over its sides, petting it. "Do you have a name?"

"It does not," Megamind says quietly.

"Her name is Dream," Roxanne says immediately, still running gentle fingertips and knuckles over the steel surface. "If she wants to be, of course, but—hi! Yes, hello! I love you, do you know that? Good __morning__, baby, hello!"

Dream blinks at her, then swings in the air and croons, a high, musical whirring sound like a happy trill. Roxanne looks over at Megamind, eyes shining, delighted all over again as Dream presses itself against her hands. "She makes tribble noises?"

He's trying desperately to keep his smile under control but he might as well give up, honestly. "It doesn't have room in the hardware for the usual barking," he says. "But I couldn't not give it a voice, so. Yes, it makes some different noises. Trills, squeaks. A few whistles."

"Those are all excellent." Roxanne beams down at the robot hovering above her lap. "I love you! Yes, I do, I love you!" Dream trills again and Roxanne laughs and trills back, a long rolled r, and Dream chirps a response as it shifts a hatch on its ventral surface to extend a couple of dainty metallic tendrils, which wrap gently around Roxanne's fingers, testing and learning them.

"And she—oh, do the bots have genders?" she asks. "I've been meaning to ask. You've referred to Ducky as 'her.'"

"Most don't," Megamind admits. "But a few of them do change their designation in some fashion. I haven't been able to figure out why, but it's probably none of my business anyway."

"But they do have a designation?" Rose asks. Megamind glances up.

"Most don't," he says again. "Gender is one of the few code modules the Host wrote entirely themselves. Frankly I didn't think to include gender as an identity-specific possibility. Individual bots who have genders download the module to include that designation with their other IDspecs."

"Huh," Roxanne says. "Well, I won't assign one, then. Can I see its IDspecs?"

"I'm interested to see if it lets you. Give it your phone and let's find out."

Roxanne juggles her cell phone out of her back pocket and offers it to the humming sphere, then laughs when it zips around in the air, tipping and spinning and tilting its body to get a better look at the black rectangle.

"Watch out, Roxanne," Salim says, grinning, "your boyfriend is about to get remote access to all your stuff."

He sounds like he's joking but Megamind stiffens anyway. Roxanne just rolls her eyes. "Oh, like he doesn't already have remote access to everyone in Metro. Yes, that's right, it's an interface we can share," she adds as Dream runs several curious tendrils over the device. The tendrils appear to extend from dorsal-curling spirals as their neutral positions in Dream's ventral chassis. "This is a phone, can you say phone?"

Dream trills a little. It does sound like it's mimicking Roxanne's tone; the sound is rounder.

"Good," Roxanne says, "that's right! Phone!"

The little bot extends a tendril to touch the charging port, clicks for a few seconds as it shifts something down the tendril's segments, and then plugs in and opens a blank memo.

_IDSPEC  
Brainbot Model 17.0, Designation: 001  
Serial No. 000TR504D  
Alternate: "_Dream"  
HardwareChassis: SPH3R301D_T35T001  
HardwareTactile: TNT_10  
SoftOS: _QLAM003  
BiOS: PipSqueak  
CoreScribe: PipSpeak

Roxanne makes a soft sound in her throat. "Its bios is called pipsqueak?"

:_IDSPEC_?Roksann?

Megamind winces. "Um, so, spelling in BotSYN is…highly phonetic. They understand potential sounds associated with letters in the roman alphabet, but they learn organically. It will eventually learn to spell in…probably several languages and possibly several alphabets, but that will come later. You'll have to tell it if you want it to use a spelling paradigm other than BotSYN."

"Yes, that's right, my name is Roxanne," she replies. "You may also see it spelled this way…"

Dream is already offering the phone back with a new line.

:_IDSPEC_AltVis:

"Good," Megamind murmurs. "Good, it knows __see__ corresponds to visual input and it's using that to refer to __encounter__."

She glances at him as she hands the phone back to Dream. "Does it understand English?"

"The bots enter the Host knowing helping verbs and prepositions," he says. "The rest, they learn from context and shared knowledge from older bots."

Her eyebrows go up. "You weren't kidding when you said they were pattern-recognition machines."

"I very much was not exaggerating, no." He nods at the other brainbots, who are either lazily orbiting the Christmas tree or ripping at the discarded wrapping paper. "It helps that they're here. I assume—yes, see? Jeremy and Ducky are flocking with it. 87534 is thinking about it…yes, there it goes. See how they turn together? Sharing data."

"Huh," Roxanne says. "That's handy."

"I'm happy you like it," he says, eyes sparkling as he watches her interact with the little robot. "It will eventually learn to help you in certain small tasks. I'm not sure what, yet. Maybe it will come to work with you and you can finally ditch that shiftless, gum-chewing cameraman of yours. Its camera is certainly powerful enough, and it has memory capacity for eighteen consecutive hours of video footage."

Roxanne makes an interested noise. "That would be __incredible__," she says, as Dream heads over to investigate the Christmas tree with the other brainbots. They make room for her, blinking and bowging quietly at her as she croons and trills at them, more tendrils extending to touch and learn them and the tree and its surroundings in general.

"I love it," Roxanne says. "I can't wait to see what it does at home."

"It is programmed to recognize your private spaces," he tells her, his expression going faintly worried. "Your bathrooms, your bedroom. It won't enter those unless called." Roxanne raises her eyebrows at him, surprised, and Megamind shrugs sharply. "I thought—I just. Thought. It is capable of recording video, and it is linked to my servers, and—ah?" Roxanne has just cupped his sharp chin and made eye contact, silently asking about a kiss, and God help him, he cannot stop himself from pressing forward into her.

(not real, not real; her family is watching, that's why)

"I trust you," she says as she breaks the kiss, staring into his eyes. "But that was very sweet of you to think of." She pets his facial hair with her thumb, then grins. "My turn!" she exclaims, hopping up and retrieving a large, rectangular box from under the tree while Megamind is still reeling, lips tingling.

This box is wrapped in blue-striped paper, also with silver ribbon, and it is also fairly heavy. Megamind cocks his head at her as he tugs off the ribbon and, against all reason, slips his long fingers under the tape to ease the paper off in one piece.

"Ugghhhh," Roxanne groans. "Seriously? Megamind, my love, you are killing me. I'm dying."

"Patience is a virtue, Miss Ritchi," Megamind says severely, quirking half a smirk at her in spite of himself, stalling for time and composure.

Salim leans forward from where he's sitting in the rocking chair, wearing a new sweater over his pajamas and an extremely silly-looking hat. "Yeah, nobody in this family has either of those things," he says. Rose swats him, laughing.

Roxanne just rolls her eyes and ignores this. "I thought you said mischief is its own reward."

"That I did," Megamind agrees. "But I said nothing about patience. …There. Was that so hard?"

"Excruciating," she says. "Open it!"

He arches an eyebrow at her, smooths his hands over the lid as he lifts the other half of his mouth into a lazy grin.

"Megamind," she pouts, and he finally gives in.

He isn't immediately sure what he's looking at, upon opening the box. It's black fabric—wool?—and silver spikes. And silver fur. Frowning, he lifts it out of the box, sees toggles, stands up and shakes it the rest of the way free.

It's a cape. Or—no, not a cape, a cloak. Full-length, with a sharp overlap in the front to eliminate gaps, it's lined with silver fur and the shoulders of it are formed and stiff, like his mantle. Also like his mantle, The shoulders of the cloak are heavy with steel spikes of varying heights, artistically arranged. Smaller studs adorn the edges of the deep hood and diffuse down the black wool from the shoulders, flashing in the morning light like snow or stars. The corner that crosses his chest carries a heavy-looking clasp that—ah, it hooks onto the opposite shoulder. And then the silver toggles on black leather loops go down—

He stares at it. It looks __so warm__.

"So," Roxanne says, "I've noticed you hardly ever do outdoor plots in the wintertime, and Minion is usually the one who does most of the kidnappings between October and April. And I thought, I thought it might be because you get cold. One of my coworkers makes cloaks and sells them online, and I designed this and asked Minion what the measurements should be, and…well, after she finished it, he helped me put the formed mantle inside and stud it. And. Voila!"

She looks at him for a moment. He's still just staring at it, his eyes big and his lips slightly parted, holding it out in front of him and blinking at it. Finally she asks, "Do you like it?" and she's relieved when he nods hard. Smiling, she says, "Do you want me to hold it while you unbutton it so you can try it on?"

Megamind nods again, so Roxanne stands up, laughing a little, and takes the heavy garment so he can unhook the clasp and undo the toggles. She really is pleased with how it turned out.

"My coworker said the fur is mostly mink and arctic fox," she says as he turns around and backs in under the mantle, which she settles carefully on his thin shoulders. "Reclaimed from secondhand coats that were in good condition. I figure, if you wear the coat Minion made you under it, and your tall boots, you should stay pretty toasty. Maybe you'll be able to go outside more in the wintertime. Turn?"

He turns, clasping the cloak across his chest. It has slits for his arms with heavier fur lining them to help keep cold out; that's a nice touch.

The heavy fabric drapes perfectly around him. He's standing barefoot in Roxanne's mother's living room but he looks positively regal, Roxanne thinks.

She grins as he looks down at himself. "You look amazing," she says. "I love that on you. Oh, perfect, thank you Rose!"

Rose has appeared with the tall, thin mirror that usually hangs on the back of the other bedroom door. "I thought this might give him a better angle," she says.

Megamind blinks at himself, lifting a hand to touch the riot of spikes on his shoulders, lifting the hood up over his head—and it fits perfectly. For the first time in his life, he has a hood with room to spare, and there's nothing between his head and the hood but it's __so soft__.

And Roxanne was right. He does look amazing.

He turns to her, steps to her, puts one hand on the back of her head and the other on the small of her back and pulls her in, presses his forehead hard against hers. He's struggling to find words, but—

"Roxanne," he says, with his heart in his throat, "thank you. It is—so warm. Beautiful. I—thank you."

Then he steps back, swallows hard. "I need to talk to you," he says, his eyes huge and glittering brighter than usual. "Please. Privately. I—there is something you need to know. Please."

Concerned, she nods. "Okay. Do you—do you want to go outside, or up to—my room, or—?"

He's quiet for a moment, considering this. Finally he says, "Outside."

* * *

So Roxanne shrugs into her coat and scarf, her gloves, her boots. Megamind wears his new winter cloak over his wool coat, as Roxanne suggested, and they go out into the blaze of sunlight, the shade of the porch a haven against the glare of sun on the snow.

Megamind drops into the porch swing and looks away over the wintery landscape. "I want to preface this," he says, before Roxanne can ask what on earth the matter is, "by thanking you for everything you've done for me. Over the years, of course, but—these past few days, in particular, have been—a revelation. The prospect of—having prospects is—beyond anything. Everything. But also, ice skating, and—church and this morning, and coffee with you, and—dinner with you—Rose teaching me how to do mascara—and Salim making new coffee—he hugged me and—and—your mother let me borrow her pin." He gasps in a breath. "You have been. __So__ unspeakably kind to me. And, and of course I know my presence here was strictly mercenary but, even in the in-between times, even when we were—alone, you still—you let me touch you, you almost—you seemed to seek me, I don't know."

"Megamind," Roxanne begins, but he shakes his head hard.

"Please—let me speak, __please__, I'm sorry, I—know I tend to monologue but if I don't say this now I don't know if—and I should have done this years ago."

Roxanne pinches her lips together. He's sitting ramrod straight on the porch swing, gasping shallow breaths every few words; he looks like he's about to either burst into tears or throw up. Potentially both.

He swallows hard. Breathes for a moment while he gathers himself. "I want to give you something," he finally says. "And—but it—is something you should have had all along, something I—stole from you."

Roxanne waits, watching him, worrying, while he recomposes himself.

"I would like to give you a choice," Megamind says firmly. "I—more than this, I want to give you the final say in the nature of our interactions going forward. If you should want any," he adds. "I don't know if you would—ever choose to associate with me voluntarily, publicly or in private, but it doesn't matter. If you want me to continue kidnapping you on occasion, I will—work with your schedule, figure out times that work for you, I—absolutely do not want to be—a drain on your energy. Resources. I thought, before, I could be nothing more than a drain on you, but you—this—I __can __be more, I __could __have been, all along. And even if—no. I should have done this ages ago. I was selfish. I—I'm sorry, Roxanne."

He goes quiet.

After a moment, Roxanne takes a deep, slow inhale. She's trying hard to sort through all that, but she keeps getting caught on that __if__, that __if you should want any__. It's kind of him to offer, but she's already told him she enjoys the kidnappings, hasn't she? While they were skating?

A spike of ice stabs down her spine. Has she completely misread the situation between them?

But no, no, she reassures herself, Megamind all but __melts__ every time they kiss and he's sitting here apologizing and struggling not to cry; she can't __possibly__ be misreading that.

"Megamind," she says carefully, "are you saying you don't want to keep kidnapping me?"

"What I want," he says, "needs to not matter anymore. I want to know what __you__ want."

Roxanne squints at him and slowly sits down in one of the porch chairs, facing him at an angle. "Okay, that's good, but—what I want is to know if we can both get what we—"

"What I want __does not matter__," Megamind snarls. "Not to the universe, not to you, not to me. Please, I—this is—"

"What you want matters to me," Roxanne protests. "It matters to me a lot."

His lip curls. "You say that now," he says.

Stung, she leans back in her chair. "I am not just going to randomly stop caring," she begins, but he shakes his head again. When Megamind shakes his head, there's no mistaking it.

"There is more to this you don't know," he tells her, still glaring out across the snow. "There's—you need to go into this fully informed before you say that. I'm—I'm not human, Roxanne, and I—there are things about me, psychologically, that—don't fit."

__Wrong for this world__, she thinks, a pang running through her, __most humans notice within a few minutes of speaking to me__. She knows the feeling.

"So tell me," she says. "Talk to me. Tell me what has you looking like you're walking to the gallows, and I'll…what, so you want me to decide if I—if I ever want to see you again after we get home? If I want to, how often?"

He winces a little, but he nods.

__This is ridiculous, you're being ridiculous; of course I want to see you again!__ But Roxanne can already see how well that's likely to be received, right now. "Fine," she says. "Okay. Megamind, listen, whatever it is…it's okay. You can tell me, I'm not…I'm not going to be upset."

"Ha," he says dully, and slumps forward a little. "Ha. But…yes. Okay." He pulls a deep breath, lets it out in a puff of steam in the freezing air. "I am…you may have noticed, I can be single-minded about some things. Obsessive." He glances over at her; she nods. "In this case," he says, "the problem is—one of my—"

He stops. After a moment, his expression twists, goes sour. "I am obsessed with you," he says flatly. "Fixated on you. To a truly upsetting degree, really, it's…even I find it disturbing. I have tried to stop, I promise I have, but to no avail; in lieu of changing my focus, I—have done my best not to let it affect—our interactions, but—it almost certainly has. Affected them. To some extent. Despite my best efforts. Despite Minion's best efforts to act as a behavioral touchstone for me." He frowns down into the middle distance, his expression pinched and his shoulders rounded and his elbows slicked against his sides; god, he looks so, so desperately upset.

Roxanne is staring at him. "Fixated," she whispers, stunned. Okay, no, she…had not actually seen that one coming. "Obsessed? As in…do you mean, stalker-y, or…?"

He shakes his head. "No. You have your privacy. Privacy is important, distance is important, you aren't—mine, I'm not entitled to you. I know this. That level of attention would make you unhappy, and your happiness is—it—is imperative. To me. In, in a way I'm not certain how to articulate."

Well. This is sort of a lot to take in, but a thought occurs, and she wonders…her happiness comes first? In the face of something Megamind calls __obsession__, Roxanne's happiness is imperative to him?

She swallows. Cautiously asks, "How, exactly, does this…obsession…manifest, then?"

"I think of you," he says, taking another deep breath, his voice shaking, "all the time. Every day. I see something new, and I think, Miss Ritchi would like this. Miss Ritchi would hate this. This would make her laugh. She would make fun of this. On my bad days, I wish you were with me so badly it hurts, sometimes, here," tapping himself in the middle of his chest, "under my xiphoid process. On my good days, I wish I could go and find you, see you smile—but, again. Privacy." He's quiet for a while, thinking, and then he says, "I make something new and I think, Miss Ritchi would know how to take this apart. I program new software for the brainbots and I think, will Miss Ritchi enjoy how the AI builds off this? I went onto the roof of the Lair at night last week to do some repairs and I saw the red moon hanging low in the sky over the lake, shining up out of the water, and I thought, Roxanne should be here, she should see this.

"I don't know why I think these things, why I want these things. I have no claim to you. I know this.

"And when you are with me, when you're in the Lair, it's…" He pauses, tilting his head sideways on the top of his long neck as he searches for a word. "…different. It's. A different place, with you; it's…more full? Somehow?" His eyes flick from side to side; he's frowning harder, now. "It's…I don't know how to say this. I don't know if words exist for this. It's…having you near me is…like…" Frustration rumples his face, and he closes his eyes, searching.

Finally his expression clears. "Sunrise."

Roxanne blinks, but of course Megamind doesn't see. He nods a little, tips his face up in the cold, clear air. "Having you near me is like sunrise," he says again, "in a high pressure zone in early spring, when…when the morning is gold, and the air is…clean, and clear, and the wind off the bay curls around your fingers and just, __just__ touches your skin…" He lifts his hands a little, fingertips moving very slightly. His head is still tipped back, his eyes are still closed. "…And the snow is melting, and everything is quiet…and the world is new. It's like that." He exhales, falls back into his bleak scowl again. "It's nice," he says, opening his eyes. "Even here, you leave, you come back—and seeing you walk in is—it is like walking into evening sunlight after spending all afternoon in the freezing Lair. I don't have words for it. I don't know what's happening. I do __not__ __understand__ it."

He's quiet for a long moment, not looking at her. Roxanne's head is spinning but she doesn't dare move. "And yes, I realize how, how incredibly—how __completely__ __awful__ this all must sound to you—I hope, I hope you aren't frightened. But. It is long past time you knew about this." His expression twists and he clenches his fists in his lap. "I'm so sorry I didn't say anything sooner. Before the kissing and the—touching. I liked that, I—too much. I liked that too much and I should have told you. Which brings me," he continues, his voice going sardonic just as Roxanne thinks he's finally finished describing exactly what it's like to be in love with someone, "to the __wanting__."

She shakes her head, now completely thrown. "Wanting…sex?"

"Wanting to see you," he says flatly. "Wanting you to want to see me. Wanting to put my head in your lap. Wanting to put my hands in your hair. Wanting to kiss you. Wanting to hear you laugh, wanting to see you smile, wanting to make you happy, wanting to hold you when you're sad, wanting to tell you how __absolutely screamingly delighted__ I am every time you figure out pieces of my plot before I can explain them." He heaves a miserable-sounding sigh. "Wanting to just—sit. With you. Just sit next to you and not say anything, just sit, at your side, every minute of every day of my life until I die.

"And wanting—other things. Disgusting things. Your hands on me, your mouth on me, I—sex, yes, when I think about it. I try not to, but my success on that count is," He gulps, his ears going pink and his expression going pained, "limited. I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "I am so, so sorry. I should have warned you years ago."

Roxanne stands up from her chair and sits down on the porch swing in front of him. His eyes are closed.

Slowly, she reaches forward and takes his hands. Megamind startles badly, but Roxanne only takes his hands in hers and holds them. "Megamind," she says quietly, "please look at me."

He opens his eyes, but he can't seem to meet her gaze. After a moment, he sort of—gulps—and squeezes his eyes closed again. What Roxanne __wants __to do is pull him into her arms and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and never stop, but—words.

"Thank you for telling me," she says, keeping her voice low. "Thank you for finally telling me all that. And—Megamind, can I—can I please tell you, you aren't obsessed with me."

His eyes pop open. "Is that supposed to be a __joke?__" he demands, sounding shocked. "__Please__ tell me you're trying to be funny; I don't think I can explain all this __again__—"

Roxanne shakes her head, grips his hands harder. "No, I'm—you're in love with me," she blurts, and his expression blows open. For a moment, Megamind goes totally soft in front of her, loses his tension and all his hard edges, goes wide-eyed and hopeful and vulnerable. "Oh," he breathes.

"You just exactly, perfectly described the experience of being in love. My experience, anyway." She swallows. "Wanting all that, feeling all that, and—and doing nothing, because you want me to be happy more and that's what you think will make me happy—Megamind, that's what love is."

"Oh," he whispers again, shocked and marveling, and—

—and then he snaps straight into horror. He yanks his hands away, rips himself back and away from her and stumbles onto his feet. "Fuck," he chokes. "__Fuck me__, I __cannot believe__—" He lets out a bark of mirthless laughter. "Of course! Of course. Because of course it would be love, after all! And of course I wouldn't be able to—right. Okay. __Fuck__."

Roxanne remains seated; the last thing she wants to do right now is accidentally freak him out even worse. Roxanne-seated-Megamind-standing-shouting is a safe dynamic, it's a known space; hopefully it will help feel a little more familiar.

"Megamind," she says, but he shakes his head hard.

"No," he says. "No."

Megamind scrubs both hands down his face and then spins and stalks away across the porch in silence, dark cloak sweeping around and behind him. He stalks away, stalks back. Away, and back. Away, and back. Away—

He stops at the other end of the porch and grips the railing with both hands on either side of his body.

Roxanne waits. She's seen him pace like this a few times before when he's been forced to switch from one plan to another, vastly different plan with little to no time to prepare. She, herself, feels…weirdly calm about this whole thing. Just a huge sense of relief. Of course she does; she knows Megamind loves her and she knows she loves him; she has her best-case scenario.

Megamind, on the other hand, is struggling. And as much as Roxanne still wants to just—walk to him—put her hand on his back, his face, kiss him—

She'll get her chance to talk. He's working through something; interrupting is not going to help.

("Sometimes Sir just needs to get his thoughts out into the air before they'll leave him alone," Minion told Roxanne once, years ago, in an undertone, as Megamind ranted under his breath in what sounded like several languages at once. "Don't pay him any mind.")

(Granted, he isn't talking right now, but the motions are the same.)

Across the porch, Megamind's head comes up and his shoulders come down as his spine straightens.

He turns and walks back to the porch swing, stops in front of Roxanne, facing her. His eyes are wide and his brows are high and his breathing is shallow; he looks like he's a heartbeat away from full panic. "So," he says, his voice cracking in the middle of the word, "I am—in love with you. And—and this is, almost, worse, because I—can't think of any reason for you to ever—"

He cuts himself off, closes his eyes, gulps. Roxanne opens her mouth but Megamind keeps going, speaking very quickly with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Miss Ritchi, I—do understand completely if this is—repugnant to you, if, if you are angry, if—because," he lets out something a little like a laugh and a little like a sob, "I assure you, I am blisteringly, blindingly furious with myself about this." He clenches his fists at his sides so hard his knuckles crack. "I never wanted to do this to you, to—put you in this position—I love you! I love you. God, I'm—I'm so sorry."

He risks looking at Roxanne. She's just sort of staring at him, now, her lips parted; and __fuck__, he wants to __lick__ them, what the hell is wrong with him.

"But," he says, closing his eyes again so he won't have to see her face, "if...if it is love, Miss Ritchi, and I think you're right, I think it is, then…you have said, you're comfortable with me; you've said you trust me; you—you kissed me, put your hands on my skin—even, even in the dark with only me to know it, where it could serve no purpose—and so—" His voice is shaking badly, now, his breath already heaving in and out of his lungs. "—so I can't—I __have __to, I __have to ask__ if maybe you—could you someday—"

__If maybe you could love me, too; maybe I could be__—

"I know I am—too much all the wrong things, I know." He swallows hard and it's enough to break the last shreds of control he held over his expression. He feels his whole face crumple inward as his throat goes thick and tight, feels himself bare his teeth around the words, "I, I __know __there is nothing here for you but I still, I still hope—"

"Stop," Roxanne whispers, and he stops, shaking, clenching his breath behind his gritted teeth and struggling desperately not to burst all the way into tears. Mostly sort of failing.

"You love me," Roxanne whispers, and fuck, he can't read her tone, she—

He hears her move and catches himself just before he stumbles back, manages to turn it into just a really bad flinch. He's had pretty good control over that reaction, these past couple days, but now, with the truth of his heart finally shivering naked in front of him in the winter air—he hides behind his eyelids, trembling, waiting for her to strike or shout at him, drive him back, but—

Her hands settle softly on his skin, cradling his face, and Roxanne's low voice says, "Megamind, you just said you love me; how on __earth__ does that add up to __nothing here for me?__"

He's shaking so badly he can hardly get words out. "I—because I'm too—"

"You are __not nothing__," she tells him, in the same low voice, as she puts her arms around him and pulls him to her. "You are __everything__."

Megamind ducks his head and shoves his face into the soft curve of her neck, gasping for breath, and hates himself for loving the way she curls her arm up around his cranium to hold him there, careful of the spikes, with her other arm tight around his back. Hates himself for wrapping his arms around her without even thinking about it.

"Shhh," Roxanne says. "Shh. Megamind. Listen to me, okay? I love you, too."

He shakes his head against her, denying this, but he can't bring himself to pull away.

"Yes," Roxanne says, quiet and relentless. She touches his (wrong-shaped) head, his (wrong-shaped) body, holds them against her with both arms as though she wants him there even though she can't, she can't, she can't possibly. "Yes, I do, I love you."

"You don't," he gasps into the muffling space between them, "you don't __love me__, that's preposterous. Your family is getting to you."

"Megamind—"

"__This trip__ is getting to you," he spits, yanking his head up and pressing his forehead against her temple because he is stretched out and wound clockspring-tight and he cannot fucking help it anymore. "We have been acting like a mated pair and now you're bonding with me; that is what humans __do;__ it isn't __love__, Roxanne."

"It is not __what humans do__," she says, stung.

"Yes it is!" he cries, anguished. "Yes, it __is__, it—vasopressin, oxytocin, these are bonding hormones stimulated in humans by engaging in pair-bonding behavior. __As you have been doing with me!__" He finally, __finally__ casts himself away from her and stumbles back, wrapping his arms around himself so he can't wrap them around her again. "That's all this is!" he cries, backing away, curling over his arms. "It isn't __love!__"

Roxanne stares at him, then reaches for him. "There is more to it than—don't you shake your head at me! Don't you tell me how I feel; those are just chemicals! If I experienced this with someone I didn't like, __yes__, I might feel more of a connection to them, but I wouldn't __love__ them! You can't—"

"A month away from me and this won't even seem real," he begins, tears in his eyes, but Roxanne cuts him off.

"Oh, __shut up__," she snaps, following as he backs away. "Megamind, you—__precious genius__, __please__ back your self-hating ass up and listen to me! I let you talk, now it's my turn! You don't get to describe love in abstract terms like you're Walt __fucking __Whitman because __you think it's a fixation__ and then presume to tell __me__ what __I'm__ feeling!"

He backs away from her, shaking his head—he doesn't even know why; he should be over the moon but he just—he can't—he __can't __love her she __can't __love him it's not __real__ it's—

"This is __not new__, do you understand me?" She catches him, grips his upper arms through the studded wool. "I realized what it was yesterday when I kissed you, but this is not a recent development. I am spectacularly godawful at realizing how I feel in the moment so I guess it's not surprising I wouldn't notice, but I really do think about you all the damn time! I really do look forward to your stupid kidnappings! And I really am disappointed when you skip a couple weeks even though I'm also excited to see what you've come up with! Yes, I am, Megamind; I said __don't you__ shake your head at me!" She shakes him a little. "Look at me. I said—oh for __fuck's sake__—" She takes his face in her hands again and pulls him up so she can stare into his eyes, glittering green and brimming with tears.

"I love you," she tells him firmly, her heart aching. "I love the brainbots and I love seeing whatever new thing you've invented, I love listening to you talk about what you build, I love—these past few weeks, seeing you, getting to just—hang out with you, hold you in my arms and—and be held? Just talking to you, having coffee, having dinner—this has been __amazing__ and I want __more of it__, okay? I love you, okay?"

He's staring at her. "You—you're only saying so because I said it," he tries, but Roxanne isn't having that.

"No, I just __told__ you, I knew I was in love with you since yesterday morning. I kissed you and—but I knew I had feelings for you before __that__, even! When you turned and saw me and smiled in Evil Lair last week, I __loved__ you then and I only sort of knew it but—I didn't realize how much. Or in what way."

She tips his face to hers and kisses his trembling mouth, tastes freshwater tears, and then she sticks her arms through the slits in his cloak and wraps them around his skinny body, pulls him close.

"I really do think about you a lot," she murmurs, resting her forehead against his as he slowly twines his arms around her shoulders, "and I really am bad at knowing how I feel. For something as, as slow and as beautiful as getting to know somebody who hides himself away like you do…for something as gradual as falling in love with you…I'm not surprised it took me until now to notice." She swallows hard. "And I really have enjoyed getting to hold you and kiss you and—oh—how did you put it?—put my hands on you, my mouth on you. And __yes__, Megamind," she adds, lips twitching as she remembers his phrasing, "I do __also __want to do disgusting sex things with you, too, so __don't start__ on yourself for that."

He lets out a little choked-off sound that might be a laugh.

Encouraged, Roxanne continues, "And I want you to like yourself. I want you to __love __yourself, but—failing that I at least want you to be able to see yourself in the mirror and feel good about how you look. I want you to be happy in your skin," suddenly her voice is thick, "and I want you to be happy in your career. I just—I really, really want you to be happy, sweetling." She gulps. "I thought you were, I—for a really long time, I thought you—"

Megamind makes a sound even he doesn't know how to describe and closes what little distance was left between them and presses his lips to Roxanne's again. He barely draws back to tilt his head before he's kissing her again as one of her hands comes up to hold the back of his head through the hood of his cloak. She holds him there as he kisses her, as he sucks her lip between his teeth, as she pulls his tongue into her mouth while she moves both hands to wrap around his body and the skin of his skull—

(he loves her he loves her he loves her, if she'd done that at any other time he might have worried, but she's __sucking on his tongue__ and he absolutely cannot fear rejection while she's doing that)

(how the hell did he not figure this out before, __how__)

(in retrospect it seems __so obvious__)

(he thought he couldn't, wasn't capable, but he told her everything, everything, described it as best he could, and she __recognized it__—)

She pushes forward and he steps back and back and back until his back hits the freezing stone of the house—he can feel the freeze of the stone but he's—warm in his winter cloak, warm in Roxanne's arms; she loves him. She __must __love him; his head is pillowed against her hand instead of the wall, and Megamind's head is __heavy__; she must be scraping her knuckles but—

She backs him hard against the wall and licks into him, bites his lip so he moans, she makes a noise __back__—how is this his life right now—

Even when she stops kissing him, she just draws a slow, shuddering breath, and curls herself awkwardly down to push the top of her head against his sternum, the back of her head under his chin. She leaves her hand between his head and the wall until he leans forward to press the soft skin under his chin against her hair, and then she just slips her arm down around his shoulders like that's where it was always meant to rest, heedless of the spikes digging into the sleeve of her coat. It cannot possibly be comfortable for her. She does not seem to care.

"You want to give me the final say in how often I see you and in what way," she murmurs. "Okay, I'll make a proposal, but you have to agree to it, okay? I'm not setting anything if you aren't happy with it, understand?"

"I understand," he whispers.

"Then—Megamind—no more weekly kidnappings." He makes a noise, but she keeps going, pinning him firmly against the wall with the top of her head and her body weight. "I want to see you __every damn day__. I want to kiss you goodnight, I want to wish you good morning, I want you to wake me up when you have bad dreams so I can put my head on your chest and let you sleep." Her hands go tense against him; he can feel her hold him tighter without squeezing. He's sure she would squeeze him harder if she could, but he's already pretty completely squoze. "I want to bicker about whether potato bread or whole wheat bread is better for sandwiches for lunch and I want to make gallon batches of simple syrup so we can keep it in the fridge and always have it ready for your coffee.

"And I want you to cool it with the Miss __fucking __Ritchi, already; my name is __Roxanne __and it's about time you started calling me that consistently."

Megamind lifts his head and jostles her back far enough to blink at her, his expression faintly confused in spite of the tears drying on his cheeks. "Sourdough is superior to both of those," he says, and Roxanne snorts.

"True," she says, lips twitching, "but pumpernickel is the best bread of all of them. Kiss me."

He makes a sort of vaguely agreeable sound and does so, with his heart leaping and spinning in his chest like it's fighting to fly. When he breaks away to breathe, he opens his eyes and looks at her, freckly and flushed, her eyes as blue as ice but so, so warm for him, and—

"I love you," he says, wondering and soft, bringing a hand around to touch her face the way she touched his earlier, cupping her cold cheek. "I—really? It's—all the things I said, that—isn't bad? Wrong?"

She shakes her head, smiling into his eyes. "Not wrong," she says. "You want, but you don't __take__, Megamind. Wanting is okay. And you ask. Wanting and then asking is also okay."

"I want to tell you I love you," he says immediately. "I want to tell you that every day. I have wanted to tell you I love you for __so long__, Roxanne."

Roxanne stares at him, bewildered. "And you still thought all that was just a fixation?"

He shrugs sharply. "If it was love, I—thought I—would have known. I would have known if I loved you; everyone always knows when they're in love." He swallows. "I assumed I wasn't capable of—such things."

Roxanne makes an angry sound in her throat and kisses him again, soft and slow, slipping one hand around to cup him low on the back of his head so he hums.

"I love you," he breathes as soon as she breaks away.

"I love __you__," she says. "I love you so much. And no, not everyone knows when they're in love. I didn't. I've been in love with you for…a long time, probably, and I never realized. Even when I did, I couldn't tell for a while if it was platonic or romantic. All I knew was I loved you and wanted to kiss you." She swallows, admits, "I'm still not totally sure what the distinction is. But I know I love you, and I know I want to kiss you, and—and I want you to be happy."

Megamind sends her a wobbly smile. "That all sounds more than okay to me," he says, and she smiles back and starts to lean in for another kiss, but— "Wait," says Megamind. "What—does that mean? You—want to see me every day; I want that, too, but I'm not sure what—I don't—"

Roxanne blinks. "I sort of assumed that meant I wanted to try dating," she says slowly, and the light that's been dawning in the dark hollow of Megamind's chest flares into brilliance. He can tell by the way Roxanne grins at him that it's shining out through his face.

"Did you?" he says. "Really? Dating? In—in public? I don't—really?"

"Of course," she says, shaking her head like she's confused. "Why wouldn't I? Assuming you won't be arrested as soon as we step outside, of course."

"But I'm…" He gestures wordlessly at himself.

"__Not__ some dirty little secret I'm going to hide away and hope no one ever finds out," Roxanne says. "Megamind, I wouldn't date you at all if I wasn't willing to do so openly. And I know you don't like the way you look, but I am not kidding when I say you are easily, __far and away__ one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen."

"Roxanne, I am __deformed__ by all human standards," he exclaims.

"Okay, one—deformed is…yikes, and two, I'm not even evaluating you on human standards, because that would be __stupid__. I like how you look. You don't have to agree with me, you just have to believe me."

Megamind opens his mouth, then closes it and sort of squints at her. After a moment, Roxanne sighs a little and takes his chin in her hand, tugs him into yet another kiss, this time sliding both her hands up to hold him behind his jaw, cradling his whole head in her splayed fingers.

He rests his forehead on hers for a moment when she finally breaks the kiss. Then he shyly says, "I think you are allowed to grab my butt, now, if we're dating," and she laughs, bright and clear in the morning air.

"I think we need to go back inside, actually," she says regretfully, stepping away. "Finish up Christmas. Mom's going to be all weird about us taking a break in the middle of everything to go make out."

He takes her hand. "Roxanne," he says. "Let's go home early?"

That was unexpected. "What?"

"You don't want to be here," he says. "At least, I don't think you do. You're tired. And, and so am I.

"So let's go home early," he says, squeezing her fingers as pinkish color spreads up his cheeks to his ears. "Let's—let's have ourselves a—merry little Christmas evening. Of our own." He shrugs gently. "Minion doesn't expect us back until tomorrow. Hop Kee is open; we could order from there. And stay at your apartment. Or the Lair, I'm not picky. I just—I don't care what we do, I just—want to hold onto you. Alone. If, if you want to."

Startled, she says, "I don't—oh, but I don't want to impose on a restaurant on Christmas—"

"Minion and I almost always go there on Christmas," he says. "They'll probably wonder what happened to me this year. Let's go home. We can pick up the brainbots Minion called about on our way."

She wavers. He isn't wrong; she would like to leave. Her relationship with her mother isn't any more or less fraught than it was before last night happened, but—Roxanne is tense and her nerves are raw, and—can she? Really? Just bow out and go home like—?

She doesn't get to see Rose and Salim often, though. But—oh, she has the hovercraft now, it's __so fast__, she can see them more—

"It's Christmas, though," she says, reluctant. "You're supposed to be with family on Christmas."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Doing what I was __supposed to__ never won me any prizes," he says dryly. "Besides. Aren't you your family, too?" Roxanne frowns a little. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to, you don't have to always be what you're supposed to be. You can just be you."

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I don't always know how, though," she says. "I know I'm me, obviously, but…I'm not always sure how to…"

She trails off as Megamind takes her hands in his, turns them palm-up. Folds her thumbs across her palms, then carefully rolls her fists closed. Startled, Roxanne looks up at him—when did he notice her doing that?

He has his head tipped down; he's looking up at her through his eyelashes. "Do you want to go home?" he asks, quiet, and Roxanne nods, her heart suddenly so full she thinks she might cry. Megamind leans forward, turns his head, kisses her on the cheek. "Then we go home. That's how."

* * *

So they go inside and help with tidying up the wrapping paper and ribbon, and then they quietly excuse themselves and go upstairs to pack up and give their bags to the brainbots (and Dream, who watches Roxanne fold her clothes for a minute before picking up a shirt in a few curious little tentacles and flopping it around on the bed in vaguely folding-like motions).

Megamind is packed and ready to go in three minutes. Roxanne takes a little longer, and when she comes down, she finds her boyfriend sitting sideways on the sofa, chatting animatedly with Rose about something or other—dogs, probably, she thinks. She holds a finger to her lips when Rose glances at her so she can start to sneak up on Megamind, but—

"Oh, good, you're back," he says, turning his head around on his long neck like an owl and grinning up at her when her hand is six inches from his back.

Roxanne jumps when he turns, then laughs and sits down beside him, kisses his shoulder. "You knew it was me," she says, surprised. That must have been why he waited until she was almost on him to turn around; he never would have stood for that from anyone else.

Megamind just smiles up at her as he bends down and rolls onto his back, resting his massive head in her lap. "__I could recognize you by touch alone, by smell__," he tells her, lifting his hand to brush his knuckles over the line of her jaw. "__I would know you blind, by the way your breaths came and your feet struck the earth—I would know you in death, at the end of the world__."

Roxanne bites both her lips together, her throat tightening unexpectedly. "That's from the Song of Achilles," she says. "That's—Megamind, you __giant dork__, I love you __so much__."

"Oh, lord, please do not get her started on Achilles and Patroclus," Rose says, but Megamind just smiles and strokes his fingers through Roxanne's hair.

"I __like__ hearing about Achilles and Patroclus," he declares. "I like hearing Roxanne talk about them. They're no Eros and Psyche—they need a much happier ending—but they have a good enough story, I suppose."

Roxanne's mouth curls up at the corners as her eyes go soft. She rests her hand on his chest, over where his heart would be if he was human. "You __would__ like Eros and Psyche," she whispers, smiling down at him. "Hades and Persephone, too, I bet."

Megamind clears his throat and smiles and neither confirms nor denies this entirely accurate assessment of his tastes.

"So, Megamind and I are going to check out early," Roxanne says, looking around. "I'm…pretty well exhausted, and this has been a ton of new stuff, for him."

"Oh," Dorothy says, startled, as Rose makes a complainingly indignant noise. "What? No, you should stay. It's Christmas."

Roxanne shakes her head. "I'm tired," she says again, "and I have the hovercraft, now. It only took us about three hours to get here, so visiting will be much easier. I can come for weekends! It'll be nice."

"Oooh, and you can come visit me and Salim, too," Rose says, brightening. "We never get to see you, that'll be lovely!"

Roxanne nods and brushes her thumb back and forth on Megamind's chest until he threads his fingers with hers and squeezes. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah, it will. That hovercraft is going to make my life a lot easier." She smiles. "Everyone should have a supervillain in their life," she says. "They're wonderfully good to have around, I've found."

* * *

"All right," Rose says. "Now, you have my number and Salim's. __Call me__, seriously. And see if Minion will give me his number! I want to text with him! He sounds like fun!"

Megamind laughs. "He is fun," he says. "I'll—try. I'm not the best with phones."

She smiles. "Sounds good. Just stay in touch somehow, okay? By pigeon if you have to. I'll send you makeup tips. Hug?"

The last word throws him, but it isn't actually a request; she's already stepping into his space and pulling him into hers. Startled, he pats her back a few times.

"It was—nice," he says, struck by the sudden realization that he might actually see her again someday. "Nice. To meet you. I…enjoyed this."

"Same!" she exclaims, pulling back and gripping his shoulders, smiling brightly down at him. "Seriously, don't be a stranger. You and Annie __need__ to come see me and Salim in Los Lunas. He says you have an uncle near us?"

"S-sort of," he stammers.

Salim claps him on the back as he comes around to say goodbye. "Well, hey," he says, gripping Megamind's hand. "Come visit him, and come visit us. And Echo! Okay?" He tugs the alien into a hug. "Good to meet you, man. Take care of my sister-in-law. She can handle herself, but I only have the one, so."

Off to one side, Dorothy and Roxanne are talking. Dorothy sounds more or less calm and resigned, which Megamind figures is about as much as they can hope for.

"Well," Dorothy says, "I'm sorry you're leaving, but I understand. Drive—fly safe, yes?"

Roxanne sighs. "Yes, Mom, I'll fly safe."

Dorothy nods, then seems to hesitate. "Your man is…observant," she says, after a moment. "He mentioned some things to me that…well. I want to talk to my doctor. See about getting a referral to a shrink. I'm…I don't think I was this bad when you were in school, I think it's getting worse again, and…I'm sorry. You seem to wind up bearing the brunt of it when you visit."

Roxanne blinks, then stares at her. It isn't like her mother to admit something like that. "—Thanks," she says, after a moment. "I—yes, I think—that's a good idea."

They stand for a moment, awkward in the silence while Rose and Megamind and Salim chat nearby.

"I know you try," Dorothy finally says. "I—really am only trying to help."

Roxanne takes a deep breath. "I know," she says evenly. "But I am already doing my best. All it does when you try to help is remind me of how I'm failing."

"That really is not how I mean it," Dorothy tries, but Roxanne shakes her head.

"I know, I know it isn't," she says, "but that's how I hear it. Because it's, it's all little things, but—little things pile up into a big thing." Maybe the way Megamind phrased it will be better. "Basic math. Little plus little equals big, right? Eventually? But I'm glad you're going to try and talk to someone about it," she continues quickly, before her mother can argue, "that means a lot. Thanks."

Dorothy nods. Then she jumps a little and takes a small paper bag with the top rolled down off the sideboard. "Oh, and here! For when you get home. Don't want to miss out. Be sure and wash it before you cut into it. And be sure to share with—with Megamind."

Roxanne snorts. "Thanks, Mom."

"Hey!" Salim exclaims, gripping her wrist. "I need a hug before you go!" He tugs her in and wraps both arms around her, lifts her off the ground so she yelps, spins her in a half-circle, and puts her down next to Megamind. "Take care of him," he says, grinning. "I got no brothers. I want to be the only Turkish lad from Chicago in Los Lunas with a blue brother-in-law, okay?"

Roxanne snorts. "Are you not the only Turkish lad from Chicago in Los Lunas?"

"Nah," he grins, "there's me and like two other guys. I gotta set myself apart somehow, build my brand."

Megamind chimes in, "Happy to help, if Roxanne is okay with keeping me around for the next forty years or so. I'm down."

Roxanne feels her expression freeze, but—it's—because the first thing in her head, honest to goodness, is, __I will keep you until this planet is ripped out from under me__. What she says is, "Call it sixty years, and you've got yourself a deal."

Dorothy clears her throat. "Annie, you never know how—"

"Stop," Roxanne says, not looking at her.

"Okay," says Dorothy. "Hug your sister. And __you__," she adds, opening her arms in Megamind's direction and wearing an expression that says she won't blame him if he keeps his distance, "I expect to see you here for Easter at the latest!"

He hugs her. One because he isn't sure how not to, and two because he does sort of want to. Easter? Really? She wants to see him again?

Salim and Rose want to see him again, too, he remembers. He—

He has a place he can come back to. Away from Metro City. A place he can return to, with people who want to see him. And a place he's never been, where people __also__ want to see him.

Huh.

When Roxanne turns around, Megamind is scritching up and down along Echo's spine and crooning to her in the back of his throat. She laughs. "Come on, love," she says, and he looks up at her with bright and dancing eyes for a second and then sweeps two steps forward and wraps her in his arms, squeezes so hard.

As they walk out to the hovercraft, with the family waving from the windows, Salim glances up at Rose. "You realize they only __just__ started dating," he says quietly, and she snorts.

"Oh yes," she says. "Oh I know. But I'm not worried."

"What?" says Dorothy.

"Nothing, Mom."


	15. Chapter 15

This ending feels a little abrupt; I may edit it juuuust a little when I have time. But it is also a nice place to stop. Maybe I'll write an epilogue! Either way, I feel I should mention—the pomegranates are actually a Christmas thing my family does, and I think it would be funny for these two.

Thank you so much for reading! I wrote this thing in a month and a half by doing pretty much nothing else, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Hopefully, you enjoyed it, too.

* * *

CHAPTER 15

Megamind is quiet as Roxanne pilots them away from her mother's house, heading east. He doesn't look upset, when Roxanne glances at him; just sort of amazed.

"You okay?" she asks. He blinks and looks around at her.

"I __am__," he says, sounding completely stunned about it. "I really—I really do think I am. I was—yesterday was—I kept imagining this, the flight home, and I kept trying __not__ to imagine it because I didn't want being sad to ruin the nice time I was having. And I didn't want to have anything to be sad about; I didn't want any of it to mean anything. Because this is what happens, I find something and it's wonderful and then I'm too much for it and I can't ever have it again.

"And, and __then__ I thought, oh, oh no, I have to tell Roxanne—about—all my crazy neediness—I thought I wouldn't be able to see you again, I thought you would never __want __to see me, I thought you—you wouldn't—

"But I did that," he says, brow furrowing, "and I'm—here, now, with you, and—you love me? You do?"

She glances over at him. He's staring at her, his green eyes wide and wondering. "Yeah," she says. "I do. I love you."

"And we're dating," he says, still sounding like he's having trouble wrapping his head around this. "You love me and I—I love you and—you're my girlfriend."

"And you're my boyfriend," Roxanne tells him, smiling out at the land as they fly.

"And I'm going to maybe not be—maybe I don't need to be a supervillain," he continues. "I could—go outside. Sit in a park. Ooh!" He sounds like he's just thought of something amazing. "I could learn to ride a bike!"

"—Yeah," Roxanne says again, trying not to let on that her heart is breaking for him, for the way this all sounds like completely new possibilities to him. "Yeah, you could."

Megamind is quiet for a while. Long enough that Roxanne's thoughts start to wander away from what the fuck this man's childhood must have been like.

But then, suddenly, he says, "Roxanne something is happening and I don't like it and I think I might be dying."

Startled, she looks over at him. He's sitting with his feet on the floor and he's staring at his hands, which are shaking terribly, and he's hyperventilating. His eyes are huge.

Crap. But yeah, no, this isn't surprising.

Roxanne takes them down to hover low above a wide, shallow river, its water moving fast enough that it's still singing in spite of the freeze, and then she tugs Megamind up out of his chair and guides him stumbling over to sit on the half-moon shaped bed in the back of the hovercraft. "Come on," she says, "sit with me. I think you're panicking."

"But I'm __happy__," he gasps as she pulls him to lean against her, across her body with his chin hooked over her shoulder. "I don't—I don't—Roxanne I'm scared—I'm happy and I'm scared and—and now I'm embarrassed—"

"This is a lot," Roxanne says, her arms around his back, his arms around her shoulders. "It's a lot to take in. You've…some things you thought were just __true__ about the world turned out to be really different from what you thought, huh?"

"I love you," he gasps, dragging his fingers in the back of her coat, "Roxanne I love you, I love you, every time you touch me I feel like I'm glowing, I can't—I can't—I love you, your mind and—your smile is the best thing I've ever seen in my life—I love you—and you're so, so beautiful and I'm just—gross and weird-looking and too much—I'm—everything is too much and I'm too much and—I want—"

"__I__ want," Roxanne says, "you to stop telling me you're too much. You aren't. If you were I would tell you."

"But," he says, his voice still high and very breathy, "but Miss—but Roxanne—you said you aren't good at knowing what you're feeling—if—you might not notice if I'm—"

He isn't wrong. Roxanne has run into that in the past with certain friends. But she's pretty sure there's a difference here.

"Megamind, I know you. You're going to ask me," Roxanne says. "You'll ask, because you'll worry, and then I'll think about it. Okay? Because what usually happens is I don't even think about it; I just do everything I'm supposed to, everything I __should__ be able to handle, and then suddenly I'm overwhelmed and I can't handle __anything__ anymore.

"But if you ask me, I'll ask myself. Okay?" She rubs a hand down his back and up again. "And I'll try and pay more attention to how I'm doing, too, so I'm not just relying on you to ask. Okay?"

He gulps, nods. His breathing isn't any easier.

"We can do this," Roxanne tells him. "We can do this. Say it with me."

He hauls in another gasp of air. "We can do this. I love you."

"I love you, too," Roxanne tells him. "And I'm not just saying this to help you calm down; I really do mean it. I love you and I think we can do this. We're a team."

He nods wildly on her shoulder, clenches his hands and relaxes them, clenches and relaxes.

"We're partners. We'll look after each other and," she swallows, thinks wildly about what killed her past relationships, "and we'll—we'll talk about our problems and we'll help each other look after ourselves. We can do this."

Megamind clenches his hands and does not relax __at all__. He's beginning to shake.

"Love, do you just need to freak out for a while?" Roxanne asks.

"—want—not to be—this—" His voice is thin, reedy.

With anyone else, Roxanne would assume he means __I would prefer not to be panicking right now__. Coming from Megamind, __I want not to be this__ is a little more ambiguous, a little more concerning.

She raises her voice. "Ducky," she calls, as Megamind shivers against her. "Ducky, would you come here, please?"

There's a quiet little bowg from the mews-rail running around the dome of the hovercraft. Ducky shoves against Roxanne's back a couple seconds later, shoving in under Megamind's arm and pulling it up over Roxanne's shoulder, turning him as she comes up and over and down against his chest. The net effect is that the brainbot peels Megamind off of Roxanne, who wasn't expecting that, exactly. But—well, Ducky knows what she's doing, doesn't she? She's a comfort bot, Megamind said. Like a hot-water bottle.

Ducky shoves against Megamind's chest, thrumming and bowging softly as he rubs his splayed hands over her dome.

Roxanne looks at him, hunched over his brainbot. "Sweetheart, what do you need me to do," she asks quietly. Because, seriously, she has no idea.

He gulps, shudders. "Need—need to be alone—"

That doesn't seem right. But. Roxanne isn't going to second-guess him, even right now, even when he's panicking—if this is a test, if he's testing her, they'll cross that bridge later. She already knows all she can do is take people at their word. If she tries to do anything else, she'll go out of her head.

So—

"Okay," she whispers. "But I love you, okay? I really do. And this is a lot, for you, and I'm not surprised you're having trouble grokking all of it. It's okay, sweetheart. You're allowed to be scared." She leans over and kisses the soft dip of his temple. "I love you," she says again, and then stands and heads back to her chair to take the hovercraft back up again.

A couple minutes later she pauses and turns a little, unsure if he's speaking to her or if—

"Boron carbon nitrogen oxygen—fluorine neon sodium magnesium—aluminium—"

She snorts in spite of herself. Whatever works.

She listens to Megamind run through the periodic table, and then he starts in on something she doesn't recognize, and then he starts in on fibonacci. Roxanne loses track after 514,229 but Megamind keeps going for another few minutes before he finally heaves an enormous sigh and comes back to the front of the craft, flops into his chair.

She glances at him. "You okay?"

Megamind nods. "Better now," he says, and he certainly sounds less shell-shocked than he did before. He sighs again. "Thank you. Roxanne. That was…unpleasant, but I think…probably necessary. To reestablish equilibrium."

Roxanne smiles. "I'm glad," she says. "And," she continues, because he does seem to be much calmer now, "I know you think you're ugly, and I won't tell you that you aren't allowed to feel that way, but I want you to know, I very firmly disagree. You are seriously one of the most physically stunning people I have ever seen in my life."

Megamind sits back and wrinkles his face at her, skeptical.

"And I'm not sure why you don't think so," Roxanne says. "I mean. Look at you. Granted I had to have a friend explain the exact parameters of what __hot__ meant, back in middle school, but—you're it. Cheekbones and jawline and your eyes, God, I could get lost in them. And I like your head, I think it's pretty, I really do. And your skin is an amazing color, I love that, too. And you move like a liquid, Megamind, your body is just—wow. Okay? Just wow."

"Small," he says, "and too skinny and built wrong—my shoulders stick out too far and either my arms are too short for my height or my legs are too long, and my hips are—"

Roxanne scowls. "You are judging yourself by comparisons to an imagined ideal," she says flatly, and Megamind blinks.

"What? No I'm not."

"You __are__. That's what 'too' is."

He opens his mouth to argue—

—and then he closes it again, looking thoughtful. Roxanne waits, watching his eyes move as he works through this.

Finally she says, quietly, "I __like__ that you're small. It means I can hold you in my arms like at the fire last night. I like how you're built. But you," she says, "have some idea in your lovely big head of what you should look like, and you're judging yourself for not being that."

Megamind's eyes flick to her. "How is that any different from what you do to yourself socially?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Roxanne blinks. "It—it's totally different," she says, but he shakes his head.

"It is not," he says. "That's what 'should' is."

Roxanne has to stop and think about that one. But…he's…not entirely wrong, is he?

"Oh," she says. "Huh."

Then she starts laughing. "So," she says, "we're both just a couple of messes, aren't we? You never learned to appreciate yourself aesthetically—"

"And you never learned to let yourself be who you are," Megamind finishes, shaking his head and grinning. "Ah. Well…we'll just…work on those things?" He looks over at her, chagrined. "Also, I feel I should tell you, in the interest of communication, I am feeling bad about asking you to leave me alone, because I did still want—that, what you were doing, hugging me—but I couldn't. Just then. I couldn't."

Startled, Roxanne blinks at him. "Oh! Well—this chair is fairly big; do you want to see if I can hold you and fly at the same time?" she asks. "Because I will not complain, if you do. Or is that too much contact, still?"

Megamind presses his lips together around a small, embarrassed-looking smile. "I always want to be touching you," he admits. "One way or another. Even when I need space. I really am—terribly clingy, Roxanne, I warn you."

She brings the hovercraft down again, then turns toward him and holds her arms out. "Well, let's try it, then," she says. "And I suspect you might be less clingy than touch-starved. But we'll see."

He blinks. "Touch-starved," he echoes, approaching. "That's a real thing? That happens?"

"It happens to humans," she says as he curls down into her arms. "You seem like a reasonably social creature; I wouldn't be surprised if that was some of your issue."

He settles across her lap, this time, with his thighs across hers and his legs threaded through the arm of her chair, his arm around her shoulders. "Minion hugs me," he says.

"Minion is a fish," Roxanne says, "in a suit. I'm not sure that's the same as skin-to-skin contact."

"Ah. No, the skin contact I get is usually punching," Megamind agrees, and then he makes a small, startled noise when Roxanne wraps her arms around his chest and pushes her face into his shoulder.

"That is terrible." Her voice is muffled by his shirt. "Sweetheart, Megamind—that's awful."

He leans across her again, drapes his upper body against her chest, his face turned away and his cheek resting on her shoulder. Liquid, indeed.

A thought occurs. "Megamind, what's the deal with your neck?" she asks. "You said it was off-limits for touching?"

"Mm. Not anymore," he murmurs. "Back of the neck is hypersensitive to touch. Whole thing is sensitive, but there's…a lot of nerves in the back, especially."

Roxanne blinks. "__Really__," she says, intrigued, and takes the opportunity to press a kiss to the side of his neck, since it's right there and so beautiful and she can see his pulse fluttering under his skin. "The __back__ of your…? Why? Good hypersensitive or bad?"

"Good," he says. "If it's you. Or Minion, but he…registers elsewhere? I guess?" He yawns. "It's a…bonding thing. I think. Minion and I aren't…he isn't like you. So he doesn't feel the same way, to me. I think."

Interesting. Roxanne turns her head and kisses him there and he sucks in a breath and twitches—oh, that __is__ interesting—and then he sits up, yawning again and blinking at her in the sunlight.

"Miss Ritchi," he says, his complaining scowl completely ruined by the way his mouth is curling up at the corners, "that was not fair."

Roxanne cocks her head. "What happens if someone you don't like touches you there?"

"Pain," Megamind says immediately, his eyes slipping closed and his head tipping forward to rest gently against her temple. "Pain happens. Which I __thought__ was universal for everyone except Minion until you brushed me there while you were sleeping the other night."

Roxanne bursts out laughing. "Oh, no!" she exclaims. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry! You must have been so startled."

"My dear, startled doesn't begin to cover it," he mumbles, finally bending down to lean across her, again, and put his head back down on her shoulder. "I love you."

She smiles a little. "And I love __you__," she says, "and I'm so glad I get to touch your neck, now, because it's seriously lovely and I have wanted to lick it for __years__, Megamind."

"Mmm," he says. "Kay. Not now."

Roxanne smiles and shakes her head at him, and then she finally settles her hands on the controls again and takes them back up over the trees and farmland, slicing through the air, but once she's sure they've gained enough altitude not to hit anything, she turns and presses a kiss to the back of Megamind's head. He hums and stirs in her arms but doesn't really move.

Actually, he seems like he might be going to sleep. Well, that's okay. Roxanne knows where they're going, where they're headed to rendezvous with the flocking brainbots. The hovercraft is rumbling around her, and there's a low, rhythmic whirring somewhere nearby, and the brainbots are chattering quietly in the mews, and it's Christmas and her boyfriend is sort of holding her and sort of being held and, honestly, Roxanne can't think of anywhere she'd rather be right now.

It still amazes her every time she stops and thinks about it. She's dating Megamind. Or, she's going to. They haven't been on any actual dates yet. But barely four weeks ago, he was kidnapping her and tying her to a chair, and now he's going to sleep in her lap, and he's…

…purring?

She gently rests her ear against the side of his neck for a moment. Sure enough, the soft whirring is coming from Megamind, ebbing and increasing as he breathes.

Roxanne bites her lip to keep from bursting out laughing. He really is just an enormous cat, isn't he? Prickly and proud and aloof until he gets to know you, and then all he wants is a warm lap and some petting. And yes, he seems to otherwise make mostly bird and whale noises, but his eyes reflect, and apparently he purrs when he's content.

Fine by her. She's always wanted a cat, anyway.

Megamind stirs again. "What are you chuckling about," he mumbles.

She squeezes him a little. "You," she says. "Purring."

"Mmm." He shifts a little, settles again. "Happens sometimes," he sighs, and then he's gone.

Roxanne tips her chair back just a little and flies on, over field and stream glittering in the winterlight, over cities and towns, with Megamind's cool weight draped against her, his head heavy on her shoulder, his arms heavy around her neck. This is the best Christmas she's had in a while.

* * *

She wakes him shortly before they're due to rendezvous with the brainbots at the Sand Lake National Wildlife Refuge. South Dakota is flat and there isn't much cover, but the brainbots have gone to ground in an old fire tower there to shelter from a winter storm. No one is out anyway because of the storm, so 87534 zips out the ventral hatch of the craft to join the flock and guide them in. It's nice not to have to worry about being seen bringing flying, glowing robots into a hole in the air, but holding the hovercraft steady against the buffeting winds screaming around the sides of the little house on its stilts takes some doing.

The brainbots are beyond glad to see Megamind. He's happy to see them, too, running his hands over their domes and fins, cooing at them and telling them what good bots they are, coming to find their daddy all by themselves.

Dream is __fascinated__ with them. The sentiment seems to be mutual; the older, larger bots cluster around it, tactile sensors tapping gently, bowging and trilling in the back of the hovercraft.

Roxanne glances over at Megamind as she pulls the craft up into the storm. "How many of those little tentacles does Dream have?"

"Ten," he says. "It was going to be eight, but then I thought, eh, add a couple more for luck."

She bites her lip and nods, gazing out at the driving snow in front of them, keeping an eye on the hovercraft's sensors to tell where she's going. "I can't believe you built me a brainbot," she says. "I love it. And the design is just—the most adorable thing."

He smiles. "I'm glad you like it," he says.

Then he leans forward in his chair. "May I borrow your phone? I should call Hop Kee and put our order in for when we get to Metro City. Because once we reach your apartment, I am getting into my pajamas and I am __not__ getting out until tomorrow."

Roxanne laughs and fishes her phone out of her purse, tosses it to him. "That sounds good," she says as he dials without needing to look anything up. "Pajama Christmas with a late lunch, early dinner sounds __amazing__."

* * *

They land on top of Hop Kee's building at around three in the afternoon, right on time, and the brainbots carry them down. Dream does its best to help; mostly what it does is hold Roxanne's hand in three of its tentacles. Once they're on the ground, Roxanne guides Dream up to hover over her right shoulder, then praises the little bot, telling it that's a good place for it to come back to.

Midafternoon on Christmas day, and Hop Kee has several patrons sitting at scattered tables who look up, blinking, when Roxanne and Megamind walk in with their small army of brainbots, none of whom had wanted to stay in the hovercraft on the roof. But no one screams and no one calls the police or shouts for Metro Man, so that's something.

Roxanne heads up to the counter where Biming is waving at her. "Hey," she says. "How are you? Business is good?"

"Always good on Christmas," Biming says. "Yes, busy day, busiest day of the year for us here. Ah—your littlest one is—"

Roxanne turns. Dream is cooing and flitting around a high chair with a baby in it. The baby seems happy enough, smiling and reaching for the little bot, but the child's father looks like he has some concerns. "Dream," Roxanne says. "Ah-ah. No. Leave the baby alone. Go look at the fish with daddy.

"Thank you so much," she continues, turning back to the counter and starting to gather up the bag and their receipt. "I appreciate it."

"Yes, and you have a merry Christmas," Biming tells her. "You tell Minion hello from me? I'm off in an hour, he doesn't come in until six. Oh—look, who is under the mistletoe."

Roxanne blinks, then turns. Megamind is still waiting by the door, studying the restaurant's goldfish in their tank. And above him…

She hadn't noticed any holiday decorations in the place, but it turns out Hop Kee has made a small nod to the season: there's a sprig of fake mistletoe hanging on the door close mechanism.

That's cheesy, but—

(Megamind, sticking his hands in his pockets as soon as they hit the street, Megamind, keeping a noticeable distance between them, Megamind, hanging back by the door, far away from her)

She glances at Biming, who wiggles her eyebrows at her and grins.

Roxanne puts the bag of takeout back on the counter and heads back over to Megamind. "They're pretty fish," she says.

"Mm," he replies, not looking at her. "I like them."

"You're awfully distracted," she observes. And then, when he finally looks up, wearing a quizzical little frown, she points upward.

Megamind looks up, then flushes. "You don't have to do that," he says quickly. "I—my standing here was entirely unintentional, I assure you."

Roxanne cocks her head at him. He swallows. "I know what you said," he says, very quietly. "About—dating, and not hiding, but there's a difference between __not hiding__ and—"

"Megamind, I am proud to be seen with you," Roxanne says. She raises her eyebrows at him. "I want to be seen with you, I want people to see us together."

"Oh," he says.

"And I would like to kiss you now," she says. "Any excuse, really." She glances up at the mistletoe again.

"Well, if you're sure," Megamind says, uncertain. "I won't complain. I just…don't want you to do something you're going to regret."

Roxanne looks him up and down. "How much do you weigh?"

He blinks. "One eighty. Why?"

"Wondering if I can dip you. Probably not." She quirks a grin at him. "Not yet, anyway. Oh, well."

She touches Megamind's face, splays her fingertips over the line of his jaw as she pets his goatee with her thumb. The restaurant goes absolutely silent. "This will just have to do," she murmurs, "oh no, what a hardship," and presses her lips to his. A moment later, Megamind's hands settle on her back. They're shaking rather badly, but—he is kissing her, too, pressing his whole body forward the way he has every time. And after another second or two, he relaxes a little and slides one of them up to thread into her hair.

Roxanne smiles at him as she breaks the kiss, and Megamind sinks his teeth into his lip, eyes sparkling at her. He's wearing that soft expression again, the gently marveling one that tugs at Roxanne's heart.

And then, as he did when they were skating, he jumps and looks around at the room—

Biming says something that Roxanne can't understand. She catches 'Metro Man' and that's about it, but it makes Megamind go pink and exclaim something indignant, gesturing wildly around at the restaurant's five or so patrons, the mistletoe, and Roxanne. A couple of the patrons laugh, and one of them says something to Megamind that has him drawing himself up and squaring his shoulders, glaring and sharp as he replies over Biming's ongoing diatribe—and then suddenly he's trying to carry on two conversations at once—

Finally he turns to Roxanne, still blushing furiously. "I am being instructed to give you a proper kiss," he says stiffly. "Because, apparently, that one wasn't up to," he raises his voice, "__some people's__ abnormally high personal standards!"

She grins. This is far from the first time someone has demanded her high-profile and immediately recognizable boyfriend give her more than a peck on the lips, but it is the first time she's __actually__ been dating said boyfriend. It's the first time said boyfriend has actually been willing. And Megamind isn't the only one used to the spotlight. "Well, then, lay it on me," she says. "Come on, Mr. Melodrama, hit me with your best—"

He steps forward and ducks a shoulder under her arm, settles his other hand on her waist. Roxanne knows exactly what he's going for; she's the one who suggested it, and trusting Megamind isn't so much a decision as a state in which Roxanne exists, so she grips his shoulders as he dips her deeply backwards over his leg and cleaves his mouth to hers.

The kiss probably looks more impressive than it feels. Being in it is exhilarating, but it doesn't feel terribly romantic. Mostly what it feels like is being upside-down.

But Megamind's arms are strong, and his mouth is cool and he makes a noise when she draws his tongue into her mouth and sucks gently—that's going to become one of her favorite things to do, she can already tell—and Roxanne has no complaints. She's surprisingly relaxed about the whole thing, and no wonder; Megamind is supporting all of her weight.

"Mmm," she hums when he brings her back up to standing. "That was lovely, thank you."

"Melodramatic enough for you?" he growls, glaring at her, but then his lips twitch and he sort of leans down into her shoulder, turning his head to hide his face, all of him shaking with embarrassed laughter.

Chuckling, Roxanne pats his back a few times and smooths her hand over the back of his head. "My love, I need to get the food," she says as he twines his arms around her waist. He mumbles something and she bends her head down. Their audience appears to be losing interest, thank goodness. "What?"

"I have wanted to do that for __so long__," he says, still half-laughing, as he lifts his head and clunks it gently against hers.

Roxanne flushes. "I'm glad you finally got the chance," she says, smiling at him, and then she finally extracts herself and heads back to the counter to grab their takeout, rolling her eyes at Biming as she approaches. "Thanks for that," she says dryly, and Biming laughs.

She says something to Megamind over Roxanne's shoulder and he splutters, and then she winks at Roxanne. "We cater your wedding," she says, grinning. "Give you a discount."

Roxanne laughs and nods on autopilot, responding more to tone than the words. It's been a long day. But, she thinks as she turns and waves while Megamind opens the door for her, there could be worse catering choices than the best Cantonese cuisine in the city.

* * *

Roxanne lands the hovercraft on the roof of her building, then leads Megamind down a maintenance staircase to the main floors so they can take the elevator down to her apartment. They don't have to go very far.

And then they're home and inside. Megamind sets the bag of takeout on Roxanne's kitchen counter, and then—he turns and tips his head at her, big green eyes watching her carefully as he moves toward her and into her space.

"Thank you," he says, "for allowing me to nap on you, earlier. I—honestly don't remember when I last took a nap."

She smiles. "It was nice. You don't get enough sleep, love."

Megamind keeps his eyes on her face as he leans toward her, tentatively presses his mouth to hers. Yes, he's kissed her before, earlier, but—that was different. They weren't alone, earlier, not really. Not like this. Not in her home, alone with each other. Maybe she doesn't—does she need to be alone at all? She hasn't—is she—

Her hands come up to cradle the swell of his head and tilt his face so she can kiss him more deeply, and he relaxes. Okay. She does still want him, then.

She kisses him. And __then __she skates a hand down to hold him gently by the back of the neck, which turns out to be an __interesting __decision, indeed, because Megamind shivers and presses back into her hand, lifting his chin. Which means Roxanne can lean forward and do something she's wanted to do for a long time: find out what noise Megamind makes when she licks from the hollow at the base of his throat all the way up and around to his ear.

Turns out, the answer is 'multiple noises, all of which are encouraging' as he sort of staggers forward against her, pinning her back against the door in a movement that, hilariously, Roxanne is pretty sure is unintentional.

And then there's—a vaguely intriguing period of time that culminates in Megamind bracing himself, barely, against the door while Roxanne bites and kisses gently up and down the long column of his throat, her nails scratching along his spine, one thumb pressing into the shadow just under his skull. Eventually he's got the top of his head shoved against the door next to her shoulder, and he has four purple bruises rising under his skin near his shoulder, and he's shivering and gasping and making cut-off breathless helpless noises until finally Roxanne murmurs, "My love, sweetheart, dearest, my darling, if we are going to make out like this, perhaps we should do it while lying down…?"

At which point Megamind sort of gulps and nods, and does his best to find his knees so he can follow her away to somewhere more comfortable for such things.

* * *

Later, when they're curled up on the sofa together and Roxanne is finishing her beef chow fun, both of them in their pajamas, Megamind sets his empty takeout tray aside and cocks his head at her and asks, "Roxanne, what was in that paper bag your mother gave you?"

"Oh!" Roxanne laughs, then shakes her head. "It's stupid. Old family tradition. Rose and I used to get oranges in our Christmas stockings until one year Mom gave us pomegranates instead, and we decided we preferred those. We don't do stockings anymore, but—" She jostles him forward so she can get up and go to the paper bag poking out of the top of her purse. She rustles it open and pulls out a vaguely spherical red fruit. "—we do still do pomegranates. Here, catch."

Megamind catches it, and then he stares down at it in silence as Roxanne comes back to the couch. The expression on his face when he looks up at her is intensely bewildered. "Your mother…gave you…a pomegranate."

"Mm-hm," she says, standing between his knees and rubbing her thumb up the edge of his jaw just because she can. She sweeps her other palm up over the swell of his skull, smiling at the smooth-silk feel of it against her skin. "Something wrong?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's…um. And, and she told you to share this…with me? Specifically?"

"Yes, why?"

He wets his lips, then stands up and walks over to his bag. "Nothing," he says, in an odd tone of voice as he rummages through it, "but I have, um, another gift for you. Sort of."

While he looks for whatever it is he's looking for, Roxanne sets about clearing the dinner dishes off the coffee table and packing the leftovers into her refrigerator. By the time she returns to sit down, Megamind has curled back down onto the sofa, wedging himself back into the corner of the red sectional. He has the pomegranate in one hand—he's still kind of staring at it like he's never seen one before—and his other hand is clutched around something in…Roxanne squints. Black tissue paper, it looks like.

"Another present?" she asks. "For me?"

Megamind swallows. "It's…well, it was for me, sort of. But I made it because of you." He takes a deep breath. "This was a few years back. I was…not in a good place. And. I needed to…find a way to reconcile my feelings for you with my…kidnappings? And…anyway. I made this. I never intended to actually __give__ it to you, I just…needed to make it."

He passes her the bundle of—tissue paper, yep. She blinks down at it, uncertain. "Did it help?"

"It did. I think." He squeezes his eyes closed. "In any case, I think I do want you to have it. After all."

There's a pause, a gentle rustling, and then a quiet, "Oh, wow," from Roxanne. Megamind swallows. Then, after a moment during which she says nothing, he risks peeking at her face.

She's smiling down at the pendant. It's quite large, more than an inch across, and hangs on a sturdy rope chain. It's half a pomegranate cast in silver and bronze, with thirty-six garnet cabochons as its many small seeds. "So," Roxanne says, smiling at Megamind as she fastens the chain around her neck and settles the pendant against her sternum. "That Hades and Persephone comment I made earlier was a little on the nose, huh?"

Megamind flushes and wraps both his long hands around the pomegranate—the real one—in his lap. "You know me too well, Miss Ritchi," he says dryly. He glances at the pendant resting on her chest, allows his eye to linger there for a moment while he feels his color deepen. "It suits you. Red always was your color."

Then he glances down, drumming his fingers on the fruit he's holding. "It's just—your mother is—she worries. Constantly. About you. And there's a parallel there that renders this __particular__ gift rather hilarious, because—"

Roxanne bursts out laughing.

"Am I wrong?" he exclaims. "I am not wrong!"

She nods, still laughing. "I'm no Kore," she says, grinning over at him. "My mom knows this. She forgets, sometimes—often—but she does know this. She isn't going to pitch any harvest goddess hissy fits about you."

Megamind frowns. "I don't know if I would call dooming the earth to eternal winter __pitching a hissy fit__."

"A temper tantrum, then. Either way, you were invited back for Easter; she's okay with you.

"Thank you," she adds, "for the necklace." She leans sideways, against his shoulder. "If you and I can balance each other half as well as Hades and Persephone, I think this relationship will turn out just fine. Kiss me."

Megamind smiles and shifts so his arm is around her, and then he draws her in with his hand on her jaw.

* * *

He wakes the next morning without dreaming. And he wakes up sort of on his stomach and sort of on his side, with his head pillowed on Roxanne's shoulder, her arms around him. Her heartbeat under his ear is steady and slow, and the sunlight through his eyelids is bright purplish red.

But Roxanne's voice is what woke him, because she just murmured, "Get out of my room, Wayne."

"Sorry!" someone whispers. It's hard to identify voices when they're whispering, but Megamind knows perfectly well who Wayne is. The only reason he doesn't go stiff with anticipation of pain is—he's in Roxanne's arms. Nothing bad can happen when she's holding him. He's safe. She's a safe place, a quiet place. "Sorry! Okay! I just—Minion said—you came back early, and I didn't believe him, and—I wanted to ask if—"

"Get out. of. my room. Wayne." Roxanne sounds sleepy. Also disgruntled.

"Yes! Sorry! Leaving now!"

Megamind lifts his head a little. "Be __quiet__," he complains. "I am trying to __sleep__."

"Right!" Wayne says. "Yep! Bye now! Talk later!"

"Yes, yes, talking later," Megamind mumbles, laying his head back down and flicking his fingers in the direction of the whispering. "Talking later, retiring from villainy later, be a good nemesis and set up a press conference for me at nine on Monday morning. Steps of City Hall."

"...can I get a please?"

"__Fuck off, Wayne__," Roxanne and Megamind chorus, in two different irritated voices, and Wayne, wisely, fucks off.

Roxanne rolls onto her side, her arms around her boyfriend, and kisses the top of his giant blue head. Feels him smile against her chest, feels him give a contented little hum.

"Good morning," she murmurs. "I love you."

"Mmm," he hums, and scritches his fingertips sleepily, slowly against her back. "I love you, too. So, so much." Then he chuckles. "Minion," he murmurs. "That little—he planned this."

Roxanne blinks and tries to focus on his words, instead of the weight of Megamind—Megamind! her boyfriend!—in her arms, in her bed, lying quietly beside her like it's the only place he ever wants to be. "Hm? Minion planned what?"

"This," he says again, rousing a little to bring himself up and blink down at her. "This, us. Why else would he be texting Metro Man about us coming back early?"

There's clearly some kind of thought process behind those two dots that Roxanne is missing, but that's okay. She strokes her hand up and down Megamind's back, his spine, and he hums at her and settles back down with his head on her pillow, brushes the backs of his cool fingers over her cheek.

"And you don't need to talk to him about quitting?" she says.

"Are you kidding? He will be thrilled. ...Kiss me?" he adds, almost shyly, and Roxanne kisses him. The corners of his mouth, the point of his sharp chin, the tip of his nose—until he finally makes a grumpy, demanding noise and rolls her onto her back, and then she takes him by the chin and pulls him down into a proper kiss, smiling against his lips. The kiss tastes mostly of sleep mouth, this soon after waking up, but neither of them has any complaints. Their hearts are strong, and they are warm and sleepy and together under the blankets in the morning, in love.


End file.
